


Infinity Love

by Karin Yukimura (Karinpon), Sexsuna



Category: Arege, Bandom, CANARY (Band), E'm~grief~, Jrock, LA VALLIÉRE (Band), La'miss†fairy, MORRIGAN (Japanese Band), Vice†Risk, グリーヴァ | Grieva (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, Ass to Mouth, BDSM, Bathtub Sex, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Cat Ears, Clothed Sex, Consensual Sex, Crossdressing, Daemons, Dating, Demons, Dress Code, Fellatio, Fluff, Gay Sex, Group Sex, High Heels, Homosexuality, Horns, Horror, Intercrural Sex, Japanese Band - Freeform, Jrock - Freeform, Large Cock, Latex, Love, Lovecraftian, M/M, Magical Realism, Melancholy, Metamorphosis, Micropenis, Mile High Club, Multi, Not quite so vanilla now, Orgy, Other, Pandering, Penis Measuring, Penis Size, Penises, Potions, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sex Toys, Supernatural - Freeform, Switching, Tail penetration, Tails, Tentacle Sex, Tentacle orgy, Tentacles, Transformation, Transgender, Travel, Underdressing, Urban Fantasy, Visual Kei, Watersports, Wax Play, Wedding Dress, Weird fiction, Whipping, Wings, Yaoi, cocksucking, cross-dressing, male enhancement, parallel worlds, pretty vanilla, role-playing, swimsuit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karinpon/pseuds/Karin%20Yukimura, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexsuna/pseuds/Sexsuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officially, Yuze has been in a relationship with Cecir for about a week, but due to schedule conflicts they have not yet been on a real date. That changes when Yuze asks Cecir to treat him as his girlfriend, and a lovers’ journey into the unknown begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (In loving memory of Kei (Yuze), Nov. 6th 1978 - February 15, 2014).
> 
> ;--;

The car stopped and waited outside; Yuze saw it from where he stood on his balcony on the ninth floor, admiring the city lights as he waited. He went back into his flat, took his purse off the table, and headed on out through the circulatory system of the building, until he slipped out the glass doors and onto the street-side. It was chilly autumn, and the skies were clear, with the moon gibbous and bloated in the sky. He opened the passenger’s side door.

“You didn’t open the door for me!” Yuze complained. “What a rude way to start a date.”

“I’m sorry,” Cecir said, “I guess I didn’t think of that. Forgive me?”

“You did wear heels, as I implored, I hope? If so, I might consider it.”

“I did,” he said. “Look.”

Yuze leaned in, but could not see much in the dark; but something glinted softly, clearly the shiny surface of the ankle boots he knew Cecir owned (he had in fact bought them as a gift to him). “And are you wearing stockings and panties under those black trousers?”

“Yes, my love, as you wanted.”

“Good,” Yuze said and smiled, “I suppose you are forgiven.”

Cecir got the car rolling. His hair was black, and he had cut it shorter than it used to be when they were in a band together, but it was not in any way objectionable to Yuze. He was wearing black trousers, a white shirt and a black jacket over that; he even wore a tie, which was quite unusual.

Yuze had spent more than half an hour getting his hair right and doing his make-up; foundation made his face almost white, dark thick lines around the eyes, and full-red lipstick on his large, thick lips. He had taken his usual boots, thigh-highs with chunky high heels and low platforms, and a black short-sleeved dress with a short fluffy skirt and lace trimmings around the neck and arms; he also had a pair of black lace arm-warmers (flower-patterned) and a matching hairpiece in his brown-blonde hair (teased up at the back, some of the wisps twisting in a drill fashion). As it happened, he felt quite satisfied with how he looked.

“So, where are we going?” Yuze asked.

“It’s secret.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Since you are my girlfriend, as you said last week – I’m not saying. You’ll see when we get there. I’m treating you, and it’s a secret.”

Yuze pouted in defiance, even if what Cecir said made him feel oddly giddy and upbeat.

Outside, the city. Lights of illumined balcony access tower blocks, office buildings eerily dark, people walking here and there along the steel railing lining the avenue. The stars obliterated by the city’s luminescence, only the moon peeking up through the forest of nocturnal architecture, in the distance appearing like shadow-haunted ruins.

Driving down the road the orange low-pressurised sodium lighting fixtures threw their orange light into the car, blinking at speed. They were quiet; Cecir had the radio on. It churned out vapid pop-music. Yuze didn’t mind. It was nice just to be in the car with Cecir, he thought, and he felt expectancy for the night ahead.

Cecir parked the car, got out, walked around the car and opened the door for Yuze, and offered his hand. “Are you coming, princess?”

Yuze took his hand and stepped out of the car. The car park was cold and dreary, nestled between steeply rising buildings and the narrow road. The door slammed shut.

Across the road lay an innocent restaurant, sign above framed in red, characters in gold against black.

They sat down at a table (with red cloth) on the upper floor with window view. Overworked, stressed salary-men rushing by, an underemployed, struggling youth; a couple or two, holding hands... Inside, the light was soft, warm; hangings red like blood, like feelings made tangible; candles were lit at the centre of each table. The establishment had a pleasant scent, though Yuze did not know what it was; probably the candles.

Slices of a garlic baguette lay in a small basket on the table, on offer as appetisers. Cecir picked one up and nibbled it; then he looked at Yuze, and offered him the rest. Yuze sat with his hands in his lap; he opened his mouth, and Cecir stuffed it with the remains of the slice.

Cecir laughed a bit.

“Do you usually do that when you’re on a date with a girl?” Yuze asked.

“How often do you think I am on dates?” He opened the leather-bound menu and browsed. “It’s not happened as often as you might think.”

“Do you feel—,” Yuze paused nervously, “ _strange_ , that you are going out with me?”

“No,” Cecir said, still immersed in the food-world. “Not at all. It’s not my first time with someone who has a dick.”

Oh, Yuze thought, somewhat relieved.

“I don’t mind that part,” Cecir went on, “so don’t worry about it, okay? You’re fine as you are; I like what you are.”

Yuze nodded, and began to browse the menu himself. He wasn’t sure what he wanted; he could probably settle for whatever.

“I’ll just take spaghetti Bolognese,” Yuze said.

“And wine?”

“Whatever you have.”

“Okay, good.” He folded the menu back together and put it down on the table. A waiter soon came to the table and took their orders. Yuze snacked on another of the baguette slices as they waited – which was not for long. There weren’t too many people’s orders to tend to.

They ate and drank.

Yuze found the red wine quite bland, but Cecir liked it and finished the entire bottle. He must be quite used to drinking, for there was no noticeable change in his disposition. Yuze was glad that was the case. If he had become drunk, maybe he would have changed in ways unpredictable... But it was not the case.

When they had finished their meals and enjoyed a brief dessert, they left the restaurant. Yuze clung as girls he had observed in the past always used to cling to their dates, his arms wrapped around Cecir’s right arm, his purse hanging over his shoulder.

“Where do you want to go?” Yuze asked Cecir. “If nothing else, we can go to my place. Would you mind taking a picture with me?” Yuze pulled up his mobile phone. “I want something cute to save. Kiss me on the cheek?”

Cecir put his arm around Yuze and squeezed him close; Yuze readied his camera. But Cecir did not kiss him on the cheek, he kissed on the mouth; Yuze was surprised, but glad. Their mouths open, tongues touching, lips slipping against one another’s.

At least it made just as nice a photograph, Yuze thought as their lips parted.

“So...?” Yuze asked. “Where?” He put his mobile phone back in the purse.

“Your place.”

“Do you...,” Yuze began, pausing as his voice faltered with nervous expectations, “want to have sex with me?”

“Do I ever!” Cecir said excitedly. “My love! I have been sporting an erection during our entire dinner, and I cannot wait!”

Yuze blushed and turned slightly, so that his erection, hidden by the skirt, pressed against Cecir’s thigh. Yuze’s face was buried against Cecir’s neck.

“I’m glad you are excited too, my princess,” Cecir said. “So, let’s go to your place. Can you feel mine, too? It’s just as hard for you.” He took hold of one of Yuze’s hands and led it down to his crotch. Yuze felt it through the front of the trousers, angled up to the left and kept back by the trouser lining to make it as inconspicuous as possible. They walked to the car, close to one another.

 

As soon as they were through the door of Yuze’s flat (Cecir’s flat was much smaller, which was why they did not go there), Cecir took his trousers off. The stockings, garters and panties he wore underneath; the big bulging erection in the latter, the smooth legs; Yuze was excited. During the drive Cecir had looked at him now and then with a lewd energy glowing in his eyes like the glow of a fireplace seen from outside, through a window, on a cold winter’s night.

“Go to my bedroom,” Yuze said “and undress – except the panties and stockings, of course! – and I’ll be right with you.”

Cecir kissed him briefly before he did as ordered and slipped away to the bedroom. The bed was wide, the sheets and duvet a deep crimson; Cecir took off the remainder of his outerwear until his top was bare (he was quite well-trimmed, even muscular) and he lay down on the bed. Excitement was still high, and his erection showed no signs of dying down. He rubbed it slowly through the grey panties as he waited for Yuze to come.

And when he did – oh, his erection would live for ever now – Yuze wore only his black thigh-high boots and a pair of black elbow length latex gloves; the light of the bedside lamp glinted off them. The rest of his body was naked. His cock stood in the centre, small but perky and beautiful, like the focus of everything, as all the roads lead to Rome: his slender body, the thin waist, his soft, smooth-looking chest.

“I hope you do not... mind my body,” Yuze said reluctantly as he moved closer with slow sensual steps of his legs wrapped in those shiny boots; he put a knee on the bed and then the other, and crawled slowly up towards Cecir.

“Not at all!” Cecir said. “It is perfect, my dear...”

Yuze leaned closer and kissed Cecir while one of his hands stroked the panties-covered prick slowly.

“I’m glad,” Yuze said, his face still close to Cecir’s, his voice a quiet whisper, “that you like me. I’m fortunate that you accept me as your girlfriend.”

Cecir took Yuze’s prick in his hand and stroked it, too.

“Have you had anal sex a lot?” he asked.

“Not with a man for a while...” Yuze replied, “ever since Kazuki dumped me... Only toys—ah!” Cecir squeezed his dick at the last word.

“Do you use lube?”

“Just spittle...” Yuze said, “all those gels I’ve tried make my arse sting. It’s not a problem.” He backed up a bit, and licked Cecir’s exposed brown nipples teasingly, then left a wet trace down along the belly, past the navel, in the direction of the crotch. Yuze licked the erection through the soft satin panties before he moved the front aside so as to reveal the cock itself.

It was definitely bigger than Kazuki’s. He put his tongue against the tip and looked up at Cecir, who smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder as if to egg him on. The cock was warm, and be put his mouth around it. The foreskin slipped back.

He drooled on it and let his lips move back and forth over it.

Cecir moaned.

Yuze took it to the base. It made him have to pull back and cough a little.

“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” Cecir said.

“I do want to,” Yuze said before he took the cock once again into his throat. He managed a few thrusts this time, before he pulled back and drooled stringy phlegm from his throat over the cock.

Now that it was shiny with saliva, Yuze spat on one of his gloved fingers and reached back to his rear and readied the hole with some wetness, eventually slipping two fingers in with relative ease.

“Ready?” Yuze asked. Cecir nodded in response.

Yuze positioned himself over Cecir’s belly; the cock flopped just above the area of the navel. Cecir put one of his hands on it and stroked it.

Yuze reached for Cecir’s prick, to know where it was, and then backed slowly towards it, aiming it without seeing in the general direction of his anus. Soon he felt it slip past his buttocks, into the crevice, wet, slightly cold now from the saliva. He moved himself up a bit, and felt it hit his sphincter.

Yuze grimaced as it stung its way in.

“Are you okay?” Cecir asked, evidently concerned.

“It’s okay,” Yuze said, “it just stings a little.” He pushed himself back further. The sphincter began to give way, and the wet member slipped in deeper. The pain disappeared.

Cecir moaned again while exhaling as his cock was embraced by Yuze’s arse.

“Your arse feels as nice as it looks,” he said.

Yuze leaned forwards and kissed him, and then began to move himself slightly back and forth, the cock slipping in and out with the movements.

Wisps of Yuze’s light, bleached hair fell on the sides of Cecir’s face as they kissed again; Cecir put his arms around Yuze and held him near while keeping up the momentum of the thrusts himself, keeping Yuze still.

“Yes, fuck me, Cecir-! Make me yours! Possess me like a daemon! Ah—!”

With Yuze still pierced by his dick, Cecir turned in the bed, so that Yuze was below him, his legs splayed to receive the plunging erection. Cecir increased the force and speed of the thrusts; he put a hand around Yuze’s cock and jerked it in keeping with the rhythm of the fucking.

Then he began breathing more heavily from the exertion, and yet picked up speed further, let go of Yuze’s cock (perhaps too consumed by his own approaching orgasm); seven more deep and quick stabs into Yuze’s arse—

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, and ejaculated inside. He made a few more, slow, modest plunges as his penis loosed its payload as a bomber over unsuspecting rural Vietnamese villages in the early nineteen seventies might.

“Ah,” Yuze moaned, “you came inside, wonderful!”

Cecir smiled. “But I failed in one important aspect – I didn’t succeed in making you come!”

“There is still time...” Yuze said shyly. “You can...” His voice trailed off.

Anon, Cecir pulled his prick out from between Yuze’s lovely buttocks, moved himself backwards, and took the cock in his mouth. Yuze blushed under his make-up, and Cecir began to apply suction; it tickled pleasantly, and when he added his tongue to the mix—Yuze felt himself near orgasm.

But Cecir suddenly stopped.

Yuze’s cock was suddenly cold again; he stretched his legs out and looked at Cecir.

Cecir got up over Yuze, facing away, and pulled aside the panties in preparation to receive his cock.

“Are you—,” Yuze began, but before he had a chance to finish the sentence, Cecir had deftly impaled himself on Yuze.

Soon he rode Yuze’s length, and his arse was quite nice. It was certainly tighter and more pleasant for his dick than had Kazuki’s arse been (and Kazuki had always been one to insist on being the one fucked, he would only rarely fuck Yuze, and only after prolonged pleading).

“Come inside me,” Cecir said, “come inside me as I came inside you. I want to have something of yours inside me...”

Yuze’s eyes rolled back and the orgasm finally reached culmination; he gritted his fine, uneven teeth and shot torrents of spend into Cecir’s bowels.

Cecir let Yuze’s spent worm slip out of his hole, and lay down on the side, crawled up to next to Yuze. Both were panting.

Cecir put an arm under Yuze’s head.

“Was it good?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, wonderful. Better than I anticipated...”

Cecir said nothing, but nestled his head right up next to Yuze’s face. Yuze smelled so nice, the scent of some shampoo mixed with his sweat. “I love you, Yuze-chan.”

Yuze swallowed. “I love you, too,” he said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask, but I have put off. I wanted to see if... the sex would be as good as your company. Do you... want to move in with me? I can’t bear that you are so far from me. I want you near always. I know you work a lot, but every moment you are not there, I want you here.”

“Oh, Yuze! I’ll do it gladly, if you want me! I don’t want to be apart from you!”

Their fingers interlocked, Yuze crawled up on top of Cecir, and they kissed again.

Outside, in the dark, it began to rain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Yuze's birthday, and when he wakes up in the morning, Cecir has already left for work. Uneasy and a bit melancholic, Yuze goes out to meet his old friend Kazuki...

Yuze woke up. The bedroom was bright, and it seemed to be quite late in the morning; Cecir had evidently left for work without waking him. Or maybe he had been woken and fallen back asleep... He wasn’t sure. He crawled out of bed, brushing aside the duvet, where still lingered Cecir’s scent. Naked, his hand brushed past his morning wood, took hold of it and stroked it lazily a few times. However, as he had quite the need to relieve the pressure in his bladder, he let go of his tool and let it deflate, before setting out to complete the quest.

They had been living together for just over a month. Cecir had moved his things over – some of them were still unsorted and stacked in the bedroom closet – quite quickly, as there wasn’t too much of it he needed to bring (his bed and a desk he had sold). His instruments and equipment clogged the hall (and another guitar lay on the living room sofa); they hadn’t been able to decide where to put everything. Some furniture not needed had been put in long-term storage, but Cecir had naturally not been keen on parting with his guitars.

Even the bathroom was a mess. Cecir had dumped his dirty clothes in a pile, on top of the washer. It was as if he was expecting Yuze to take care of it... just because he didn’t have a job at the moment. Living on the measly, near-worthless unemployment benefit, which required he apply to various unbearable positions on the website of the government employment agency – mostly convenience store jobs (frankly, he was glad he had not been hired to any of them) – he probably didn’t have anything better to do. After using the toilet he went into the shower.

In the shower, while massaging the shampoo into his hair, he realised it was his birthday. It had popped up a few times in the past days, of course, but he had tried his best to repress that knowledge and bury it under a million tonnes of worthless debris. Getting out of the shower, he blow-dried his long light-brown hair, then went back to the bedroom to dress. As he opened the closet, one of Cecir’s boxes fell out onto the tatami floor, the lid coming off. Some papers came out, some covered with crudely drawn notes, probably from a long time ago, back in school. Yuze knelt down and righted the box, and began to put the things back in as neatly as possible. From between the old papers, probably more than ten years old, there fell a small glossy photograph, slightly smaller than an A4. It was an old picture from a photo-shoot so long ago that Yuze could not remember anything from it; it was signed, too, by him. He had signed a lot of those... He felt touched that Cecir had such a thing in his collections. He put it back in, at the top, front-up, and resumed what he had come to do: dress himself.

He felt quite horny. Lately, he and Cecir had been having sex two, maybe three times a day, but sleeping so long, Yuze had gotten nothing in the morning. Maybe he ought to do something about it, he thought, but decided against it, if only because he felt too lazy and was eager to leave the mess of the flat (he told himself he’d have to get Cecir to assist him in cleaning and sorting some of the stuff out come weekend).

Wearing a black long skirt, a black short-sleeved shirt, and generic shoes (to be inconspicuous), with a blue winter-jacket on top (it was November and quite cold), he left the flat. As he left the building, he picked up his mobile phone from the purse slung over his shoulder and navigated to Kazuki in the contacts list and dialled.

His voice, soft and clear, at the other end after three tones had lapsed.

“Ah, Yuze-sama...” he said groggily. “You wake me up...”

“Sorry,” Yuze said. “I’m bored. Want to go to the cinema or something?”

“Okay,” he said and yawned, “give me an hour. I guess you can come to my place first.”

“Yay!” Yuze said with some exaggeration. “I’ll be there as soon as possible!” He ended the call.

It was slightly windy, and the sun was low. He made his way to the nearest metro station.

 

Kazuki had moved back in with his mother after his father’s untimely demise at the behest of a drunk driver one holiday two years past, and therefore, dwelt in a house some minutes’ walk from Kasai station in Edogawa; such a central location they could of course not have afforded to purchase today – the house was old and had been resided in by Kazuki’s family for countless decades. It was nestled snugly in between other buildings on a narrow lot, rising three storeys high, which made it look almost like a terrace.

Yuze walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. It played some buzzy electronic melody, and he heard faint stirrings from within before the door swung outwards (Yuze took a step back) and revealed Kazuki standing there with a glass of water in one hand and the other on the door handle, his face a bright smile. “Come in!” he said. He was wearing only a loose shirt and underwear. “I have to get ready for our outing.”

So Yuze went inside, and Kazuki closed the door behind him. The hallway was narrow, and Yuze made his way to the kitchen and had a seat. Kazuki slipped past and rushed up the stairs, presumably to get dressed.

Yuze had many memories of the house, and it had changed little since they were young. He had met Kazuki in middle-school, and they had instantly been close, though it would be many years before Kazuki confessed to Yuze; by that time they had regular rehearsals in a condemned factory in Kawasaki, difficult to reach, but very far from prying eyes, where they could hone their abilities. Ah, precious memories... It was down in that concrete sarcophagus that Kazuki had confessed his love for the first time. Yuze was quite shocked, and it wasn’t until a year later that he admitted to himself that he too felt the same.

Kazuki returned from upstairs after quite some time. He had done his hair up a bit, applied make-up, and put on a sleek black cheongsam with low-set collar and short skirt; at the bottom of his well-rounded, supple legs was a pair of high-heeled sandals.

“What do you think?” he said. He smacked one of his thighs playfully.

“Looks cold,” Yuze said, “it’s windy outside.”

“Don’t be a killjoy,” Kazuki said. “I’m putting on a coat for while we are outside. Does it look nice?”

“Of course,” Yuze said, “surely you don’t need me to tell you that.”

“No, I don’t need it. But I like it nevertheless.” He smiled. “Coming?”

Yuze got up and followed Kazuki back to the hall. Just as they were reaching the door they were interrupted.

“Kazuki!” Kazuki’s mother at the other end of the hall with shears in hand and a sun-hat on her head, tilted to the side slightly. “Where are you going? I thought you said you’d help me with the gardening.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do that later,” Kazuki said, having turned towards her.

She saw Yuze.

“Yuze-kun, it was a long time since last,” she said. “You two aren’t back together again, are you?”

“No, not really,” Kazuki said. “We’re just going to the cinema. It’s not a real date.”

“Then surely it can wait a little. You can both help me remove these pesky plants that died. It’ll be faster that way. It won’t be too long, I promise. I’m sure Yuze-kun won’t mind, right?” She looked at him.

“No,” Yuze said. “Not like we have better things to do.” He looked at Kazuki, who seemed a bit reluctant.

“Well, okay,” Kazuki conceded. “I guess...”

“Good, good,” his mother said. “Come here.” They walked after her, towards the rear of the house. “Part of the garden plot was infected by some fungus, and the dead plants need to be removed.”

The back garden was quite cramped. Along the border ran a concrete wall, about two metres high; in one corner rose a large apple tree. Yuze remembered it from countless years ago; it had grown considerably since those elusive youthful days. Closer at hand were various small garden plots arranged, squares lined by planks; tomato plants and something else whose name Yuze did not know, colours faded by the wear of approaching winter.

In one of the plots, everything was dead. Wizened brown remains were all there was of whatever had been.

Kazuki’s mother handed them each a small garden spade. “If you each start in one end, you’ll get it sorted quickly. Just turn around the earth a bit after you have dug out the plants and thrown them to the side.”

Menial labour. Alas, it wasn’t bad; Yuze quite enjoyed it. Digging around the edges of the decaying stems, down into the tentacular root-systems, pulling – a pile of dead plants that soon looked like a Walpurgisnacht bonfire in miniature.

Kazuki squatted, feet on the concrete tiles of the little path that led down towards the apple tree, and Yuze could see his panties up his skirt. He didn’t say anything. It was a cute and amusing sight.

“What are you looking at?” Kazuki said, looking at Yuze. Then he looked upon himself, and seemed to notice.

“It’s nothing,” Yuze said, trying to suppress a laugh. “It’s not like I’m offended by the sight.”

“And what would Cecir say?”

“About me seeing your underwear? Nothing. He’d probably like to see it himself.” Yuze reached for his purse, which he had put down on the grass next to the bonfire-pile, and flicked up his mobile phone and steadied it for a picture.

“Don’t do that!” Kazuki said and was about to stand up when the clicking sound announced he was too late.

“I’ll send it to Cecir right away,” Yuze said. Admittedly, the quality was not entirely good, and one of Kazuki’s arms blocked the view of the bulge in its entirety. But he sent it to Cecir anyway. “There. Done.”

“Hey, that’s... embarrassing!” He was on his feet now, his eyes moving from one side to the other.

“Forgive me, but I simply could not resist the urge.” The mobile phone buzzed in Yuze’s hand. “Ah,” he said, “see, I told you so. Cecir said he wants to see the same view without the panties in the way.”

“W—that’s even worse!”

Kazuki’s mother, who had gone into the house for a while, returned into the garden. “What are you boys up to now? Are you done with the plot?”

“Nothing,” Kazuki said, “and yes, we’re done.”

She nodded. “You can go on and do whatever it is you were going to do. Free to go.” She scooped up the dead plants and carried them over to a small composting site in the corner (the one opposite where the apple tree was). Kazuki went into the house, perhaps a bit briskly, and Yuze quickly followed him.

“You’re not angry, are you?” he asked when he caught up with Kazuki.

“No,” Kazuki replied as he stopped to open the door, “but... well, you could ask before you do that. I can pose, you know. If you want better pictures.”

“Maybe later,” Yuze said, “if you still want to.”

Kazuki gave a nod and opened the door.

 

*

On the way to the cinema – one they had been to before – they stopped and bought a little food from a street vendor. Yuze was quite hungry, but Kazuki ate his generic hotdog rather slowly and with languid interest. So Yuze offered to eat the last piece, just to get it out of the world. It was obnoxious to see Kazuki wave it around as they talked and yet not take a bite from it. It was gone just before they reached the large, bloated department store, in whose insides the cinema was located. Of patrons there were few; even when they went into the cinema, there were not many in attendance. This was of course common for midday showings on weekdays, which was something Yuze enjoyed.

Yuze let Kazuki pick the film. It was some bland historical drama; Kazuki always had a weakness for such. It was pleasant to be in the company of someone else, and it reminded Yuze of past days. They had come here before, even before they were in a relationship.

“Do you remember when we used to come here every week?” Kazuki said mid-film. “It was almost twenty years ago.” Kazuki’s thoughts must have been on a similar topic.

“That’s awful to think about,” Yuze said, “isn’t it? That it has been twenty years, I mean. Not the times themselves.”

They were fresh out of high school then. Young and horny. The financial crisis lingered from when the bubble had burst at the close of the 1980’s, things were bleak and resignation ever-present wherever you looked. They were still... but the past always becomes strange with time. The colour of the memories seem to warp, the notions of the feelings one possessed become alien, and everything starts to feel as though it were someone else’s memories. Not those of the present-self, but more like film snippets and dramatic re-enactments. A CD on a shelf at Kazuki’s house, the first glimpse of what was to come... the raw, eye-stabbing fierceness of the visual aesthetic which seeped its way into him, like a thousand little parasitic worms taking hold of his brain, much as the Cordyceps fungi takes control of the brain of certain South American ants. He decided then to not pursue further studies. Thus it was that Yuze played bass in a band with Kazuki... and the rest was history.

“A bit,” Kazuki replied, “but I like to treasure those memories nevertheless. The past is always preferable to the present, because you know where things are going when you reminisce.”

“And now – we don’t know if tomorrow a huge dark rock from the Oort cloud which somehow eluded detection will suddenly fall upon us. We could all be doomed and not know of it. Life is so fickle... it slips away so easily.”

“There was a man, in Los Angeles I believe,” Kazuki continued with a stern expression, “a construction worker on a skyscraper or something. He slipped and fell seventeen stories and survived this fall.”

“And how well did he feel afterwards? Probably he could never walk again.”

“I don’t know. But—,” Kazuki paused, his eyes moving from Yuze to the screen’s silken kimonos, “well, I don’t know what to say. Things aren’t always that bleak, though, are they?”

“There could come a giant earthquake and kill us all, any second. It’s well overdue.”

Kazuki put an arm behind Yuze, the hand against his far shoulder. “Is it because it’s your birthday?”

“I guess that does bring it to the fore a bit,” Yuze confessed. “I woke up late, and Cecir had already left. I suppose I felt... alone. Even afraid. Like there was some feeling inside of me, very tangible, something very big, that I nevertheless could not quite articulate. Like when you make music, you have some idea of intentions, but it is very vague, perhaps a feeling you want to convey. And you try to execute it as well as you can, but even then – it’s not exactly how you wanted it to be, even if you are okay with it, even if it ends up shaped by whatever you were listening to lastly. I’m sorry, I ramble...” He put a hand to his face and massaged the temples.

“Is there anything you’d like to do when we are done here, that might make you feel a bit better?”

Yuze thought. He was afraid whatever they did it would be dreary in his present state of mind. Everything would appear like old monochrome photographs. He remembered a framed photograph that his mother had by her bed; himself, when he was what, two years old? And always when he saw that, even when he was small, he could not quite believe that it was really him. But anything to get off thoughts of age...

“I guess we can go to an amusement park,” Yuze said finally. “If you’re okay with that, I mean.”

“A bit expensive, but sure, it’s okay, we can do that.” Kazuki smiled. “Like in the past.”

So they continued watching the film.

 

*

Since it was cold, the amusement park was quite empty. But it was open – at least. He had been worried, but Kazuki said it was open for sure, as he had been there some weeks before with that young pretty-boy boyfriend of his. It was a small, run-down park, mostly with family rides, but that was perhaps part of the charm. The large, ancient steel roller-coaster, whose blue paint was peeling and pale, looked as dangerous as ever. THE DRAGON, the sign read above the queue, which was nearly empty.

“There’s something charming about a near-empty amusement park in late autumn,” Yuze said as they entered the queue. The deciduous trees were almost barren of leaves, and wisps of red and brown leaves were stirred by miniature whirlwinds. “A snapshot of the coming apocalypse. One day, it will all be barren like this. Cities empty... slowly being reclaimed by nature.” Some kids shouted while riding a carousel as their mother kept watch, standing by with the pram.

“You’re all doom and gloom today, Yuze.”

“Birthday, the season, that sort of thing,” he replied. “Sometimes you don’t even know quite why. Woke up on the wrong side or however you say.”

They reached the station. The operator smiled at them. There were only three other people present in the train as they boarded and zoomed out of the station and up the trembling and noisy lift-hill. The ride was old, the curves not very elegant, and some of them quite painful, designed as it had been before digital design aids were available... It was not long after Yuze had been born.

The ride was nostalgic, no matter how terrible, and they rode it thrice in a row, until both their backs ached, whereat they got off. They walked around and looked at the sad autumnal sceneries and talked of times past; Kazuki bought Yuze some candy-floss after he asked for it. Yuze licked the pink sticky frizz that looked like hair.

“So,” Yuze said, “about those pictures you offered to let me take earlier... We can go into that restroom over there,” he stopped and looked towards it to make sure Kazuki saw it too, “and I can snap a few shots.”

“Okay,” Kazuki said, “since it is your birthday and everything.”

“Yay!” Yuze said and smiled, “let’s go!” He took Kazuki’s hand and hurried to in through the restroom door. He let go of him there and fished up his mobile phone from his handbag. “I know you can pose, so let’s see something erotic, that both Cecir and I can enjoy.”

“I suppose...” Kazuki said reluctantly, obviously a bit uneasy with the arrangement. He put his own bag (the dress he wore had no pockets, after all) down on the floor and readied himself while Yuze readied the phone’s camera.

“Remember, sexy poses is what we want!”

Kazuki began to try to accommodate the request to the best of his abilities. He tried a few positions, showing off his long, supple legs; he pulled up the skirt portion of his outfit to reveal more of his thigh; Yuze made sure to snap that up.

“Yes, good,” Yuze said, “now turn around and show some of that rump, too, slap it, put a hand on it, really sensually...”

“Are we... making some porn here or what?”

“Just soft-core stuff, don’t worry,” Yuze said and snapped another shot of Kazuki’s appetising arse. “This is probably enough for Cecir to wank to while at work tomorrow.”

Kazuki rolled his eyes.

“What?” Yuze said. “That’s fine, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll wank to it, too, if I’m desperate enough. You do have a lovely arse.”

“Stop it...” Kazuki protested, “It’s making me hard when you talk like that.” He had an insecure, embarrassed mien which gradually turned into a pout.

“Adorable!” Yuze exclaimed and snapped a few more for good measure. “Look at me with that expression—yes!” The flash blinked twice more.

“Are we done?”

“Well, I guess,” Yuze said and put the phone down.

“Do you feel better at least?”

“A bit, yes,” Yuze admitted, “still a bit melancholy, but it was fun to snap pictures of you.” He smiled softly. “I think I need to use the bathroom before we leave.”

“I do too,” Kazuki said and hurried into a stall. “I’ve been holding it in since we arrived here.” He talked from within the stall. “I almost pissed myself when we were on that roller-coaster.”

Yuze laughed as he relieved himself. Unlike Kazuki, who stood (the sound of the purling champagne-river echoed), Yuze sat down to do his business, to keep it quiet. It was quite embarrassing, he thought, even if Kazuki didn’t mind.

Yuze slipped out of the stall, and Kazuki stood waiting.

“Ready to go?” he asked. Yuze nodded.

They left the bathroom, walked around the amusement park for a while, rode the short, sad log flume ride, before they left and had a brief meal at a nearby ramen restaurant. This time Kazuki ate more – he hadn’t eaten much of the hotdog before, after all, and seemed hungry after the amusement park expedition.

They split soon after getting out of the restaurant, as they had to travel in opposite directions on the metro. They hugged and said farewell.

Yuze headed back home.

*

On the way home he was besieged by doubt. Could good things happen to him, at all? Was not everything just folly? To expect nice things... Maybe Cecir had left early in the morning just to get away before Yuze could voice his needs... He came back to the building and went up the stairs.

He tried the door, and found it unlocked. Cecir must be home then, he thought, and entered, removing his shoes. He noticed that something was different immediately, but it took a while before he realised just what it was. Someone had cleaned the hallway and – looking in that direction – the kitchen as well. He heard something from the kitchen, so made his way in that direction.

Cecir stood at the counter, and had evidently not noticed that Yuze had returned – perhaps not surprising, as he was wearing a pair of headphones plugged into his phone, listening to music.

Yuze sneaked up to him, and Cecir was quite startled when Yuze’s fingers touched his buttocks through the ugly trousers he wore.

“Ah-!” he exclaimed. “You’re back already? I was hoping I’d have a little more time. I’m not done with the cake!”

“What’s the cake for?” Yuze asked, feigning innocence.

“Your birthday, of course, and I’ve cleaned the kitchen and the hallway, but – I left work early for this. I got you presents, too. But – just wait, okay? Sit at the computer. I want the cake to be a surprise.”

“Oh-okay,” Yuze said and did as ordered. He went to the living room and slumped down before the computer, checked his mail (a few happy birthdays, from former band-mates, was all) before he picked up one of his old bass guitars (usually stood leaning against the wall behind the computer chair) and fondled it absentmindedly for a while as he waited.

“Yuze-dear, you can come now,” Cecir called eventually from the kitchen. “It’s done.”

Yuze put the blue bass guitar down and made for the kitchen with quick steps.

The evening was resolute in the world outside the window, a matted pink glow against the buildings across the street. Closer at hand, Cecir had lit small red candles on the cake, where he had painstakingly written “Happy Birthday” with radioactively green piped icing. Some presents lay wrapped in colourful paper to the side.

“See – I left early this morning, earlier than usual, to make some preparations. It was quite exhausting to have it sorted before work, but I managed, somehow. For you.”

It was touching. Yuze was quite speechless he had gone to such an effort – earlier he had been doubting Cecir would even remember it was today. “You are too nice to me,” Yuze said, “on this dark day.”

“The world is a shithole,” Cecir replied immediately, as if he had rehearsed it, spent time thinking of it, “and everything is darkness and misery, except you, my love, the only light in the endless night, the only tree that still has its leaves in this disintegrating world.” He moved up to Yuze, wrapping him in his warm arms. Face to face, Cecir squeezed him close. “I guess we cannot stop ageing, our bodies betraying us, but if it comes to that... we can kill ourselves together... If you die, I die, I do not want to live then; we can wrap ourselves in chains and jump from wherever, and may they never separate our bodies, may they rot next to each other, may the mush that once was us mix, may our barren skeletons stay for ever intertwined, inseparable as a single item.” Yuze looked into Cecir’s tearful eyes. “That is how much I love you, utterly and completely derangedly, and fuck anything that tries to make it otherwise. So, let’s sit down and enjoy the cake, okay?”

Yuze nodded and let Cecir pull a chair out for him. Cecir sat down on the opposite side of the table. He had readied plates and spoons, and cut a piece of the cake for Yuze, then himself.

“Is it good?” Cecir asked after a while. He had finished about half. There was whipped cream, vanilla frosting (with pieces of banana in it), and some strawberries arranged in a circle on the top.

“Yes,” Yuze said and bowed his head as thanks.

“I made it myself! I thought of buying a finished one, but... I thought it might be more meaningful if I made it, even if it’s pretty basic.”

It made Yuze feel warm to hear such things. They kept eating.

“I want to do something to you,” Cecir said then.

“I know that,” Yuze said and giggled.

“No – something else, right now. Can I?”

“Okay. What is it?”

“You’ll see.” He stuffed some of the cake into his mouth, chewed it, then got up from his chair and walked over to Yuze, leaned in, and kissed. The mouthful of cake mingled, their tongues like spoons in soft ice cream, stirring. Cecir pulled back and let the rest of the saliva-drenched cake fall from his mouth down into Yuze’s.

Yuze swallowed it and smiled. “Pervert.”

When they finished up, Cecir handed Yuze the presents.

He began to unwrap them.

The first was an oblong affair. Beyond the wrapping paper was a black shoe-box; Yuze lifted the lid off. Inside was a pair of shiny red thigh-high boots, pristinely glossy, ending with sharply angled soles and very high heels, so called ballet-heels.

“Those must have been expensive...” Yuze said. He dragged a finger up against the smooth surface.

“Don’t worry – besides, the other thing was much more expensive.”

“Oh?” Yuze said, surprised. What could that be... he was sure it was something enticing. Clothes... He eagerly opened the second present; inside of the wrapping there was a black plastic bag, and inside this... He pulled it out. Cold, rubbery and red, he pulled it out onto the table. Was it... “Real latex?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cecir said, “and as such, quite expensive. But nothing is too costly for my love – as long as I have the money, that is.” He smiled a bit cheekily. He got off the chair and took the plates off the table and to the sink, and then put the remains of the cake into the refrigerator.

Yuze stood up and spread out the dress – it had a high collar, a zipper in the back, short sleeves (loose with ruffles), and in the front a large heart-shaped opening, wide enough to expose both nipples and parts of the lower chest. The skirt was terribly short and pleated. It would not leave much to the imagination, he thought.

“Do you like it?” Cecir asked.

“My dick is hard,” Yuze replied, as if it was the best compliment of all.

“There’s a further part that can be fastened around the neck to cover the chest, if you are so inclined,” Cecir said, “for more practical applications. You should put it on.”

“No,” Yuze said, “you should put it on me. Dress me.”

“With pleasure,” Cecir said and bowed in exaggeration as if he had been bestowed a great honour. He followed Yuze to the messy bedroom, where Yuze placed the clothes on the bed and, standing next to the white closet doors, began to undress, letting his skirt fall to the floor to reveal his thin legs, which were surprisingly muscular and steady like Doric columns.

Cecir lifted the dress and took it to Yuze, who sat down on the bed as Cecir pulled the dress up his legs, and stood up again when Cecir reached his hips, whereupon he slipped it up the rest of the way, helping Yuze’s arms through the appropriate apertures and finally zipping it up at the back. He pulled here and there to even out a few wrinkles.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Feels a bit cold on the skin,” Yuze said, “really tight... nice...”

Cecir slipped in behind him. Yuze felt the bulge nudge his right buttock. Then he wrapped his arms around him, reaching in under Yuze’s own arms, and squeezed; then his hands migrated up towards Yuze’s erect nipples. Thumbs and index fingers pinched them.

“Ahh—,” moaned Yuze and leaned his head back. Cecir’s head came to rest on his shoulder, his mouth opening and the tongue lashing out, warm against Yuze’s skin on the side of his neck. The pleated skirt just barely covered his erection, and Cecir reached for it, tugged at it, before he moved to the side of Yuze and pushed the latter down on the bed.

He slipped a pair of black soft airy stockings up Yuze’s hairless (except near the feet, where he had not been arsed to shave) legs before he guided the feet into the boots.

“These will be a bit more difficult to walk in than your usual ones,” Cecir said with a grin as he made a knot at the top with the lace (zippers there were too, but as the boots were new, they had not been laced previously). This done, he stood back, leaning against the wardrobe doors and motioned with his hand for Yuze to stand up and come to him.

Yuze got off the bed. He took a step towards Cecir, carefully. On the second step he found himself falling forwards, clumsily ( _he should have been more careful!_ he thought as he fell), though it was no real problem as he fell right into Cecir’s arms.

“A bit harder than I imagined,” Yuze admitted, “hold my hand while I try to walk, will you?”

“With pleasure, princess.”

Steadying himself on Cecir, Yuze staggered in a horseshoe around the bed and then back to the point of origin. He got a better sense of his balance wearing the shoes, and managed to keep himself from falling, even when Cecir let go of his hand. He certainly couldn’t run wearing _these_ heels, however.

“We’re going to play a little game,” Cecir said.

“Like what?”

“Role-play. I’m the commander of the invading armies. Your kingdom is subjugated. You’re a lonely princess.”

Yuze laughed and put his hand over his mouth to quell it.

“Now that I have become the king of this kingdom, for ever henceforth a vassal state, you shall be my bride,” Cecir declared in a pompous tone.

“What of my family? What have you done to the queen?”

“They’ve all been decapitated. Alas, you have only one choice – if you marry me, you can be queen. If you don’t, you’ll share your family’s fate!”

“Oh, I certainly wouldn’t want that!” Yuze said in a feigned voice, “truly, that would be most disagreeable! So, say, what do I have to do to be your bride?”

“For starters, you could pleasure me with your tongue. What say you?” At that, Cecir pulled his prick out of the trousers, through the open fly; hard, with a little rivulet of sweat near the hairy bush at the base, some of whose strands clung to the zipper’s metal teeth. “To drink from the royal font is a privilege bestowed only upon a select few. You should be honoured!”

“But – does it taste good?”

“Of course it does! It is royal, need I say more? This immediately bequeaths it with pleasant smells and tastes! So, do go ahead and lick it! It is engorged just for your sake!”

“I suppose I have to try it!” Yuze said enthusiastically and got on his knees, putting a hand on each of Cecir’s thighs. The pleasant smell of sweaty cock made him more aroused as he moved in close. He licked the underside, tongue along the fraenum, his upper lip caressing the top, up to the tip. With a hand he pulled the loose foreskin back and revealed the warm glans and kissed it, before draping his mouth over it.

“Ah, yes,” Cecir said, “you’ll make a perfect queen if you keep this up...”

Yuze kept sucking the warm member for a while, scraping it gently and teasingly with his teeth.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you, princess?”

Yuze spat the cock out, keeping it aligned with his cheek.

“Only with my brother...” Yuze could barely contain his laughter.

“Oh, you incestuous perverted royals! You’ve learned well, ah— But, I must make sure that you are well trained and submissive! What is a wife if not the husband’s toy?” He smiled at his feigned sexism. “As such – let me get some equipment. I’ll be with you again in an instant.”

At that, Cecir hastened out of the bedroom and Yuze heard him rummage through something, a plastic bag perhaps, before, with equal urgency, he returned. He carried with him a large, thick red wax candle, which he put down on the dresser along the short wall, and a few lengths of red rope, with which he then approached Yuze.

“Turn around, and give me your arms,” Cecir said. Yuze did so, and felt the rope against his skin as Cecir tied his arms together at the wrists and elbows. When this was done, he spun Yuze around and pushed him (softly) backwards, so that he fell with his back against the bed. Yuze bounced slightly, and he felt his cock flop, his skirt rolling back.

“Oh, my!” Cecir said with almost authentic surprise, “the princess has a dick!? What is this?” Yuze felt Cecir’s hand grapple it, and his index finger slide along the fraenum, down to the testes, across them, weighing them in a cupped hand; Yuze found it tickled. Then the hand continued downwards, two fingers against his perineum, then, slightly cold against his sphincter, just a soft touch, the way you might imagine the sensation of a mouse licking your finger might feel. “Good thing for you, princess, is that I prefer my princesses possessing male anatomy. Those are the best kind.” One of the fingers slipped in to the knuckle, and Yuze moaned and felt the goose bumps form on his back. The other finger pushed, and soon it, too, had slipped inside, without any form of lubrication.

“Your hole is admitting me so readily,” Cecir said, “surely it knows a royal touch from that of a mere peasant! I can feel your muscles twitch. Are you ready to receive? My cock, it craves your anus as a diabetic craves sweets; such as one might crave the things most forbidden, the most illicit, the things one is told not to touch... Do you crave it, princess; do you long to have it inside of you?” Cecir was bent over Yuze now, face to face, his arms along Yuze’s sides, his breath warm and carrying with it a hint of mint and cake.

“Yes! My prince! Put your _thing_ inside of me! I crave it!”

“You really are lewd, as a glorious queen ought to be,” Cecir continued. His fingers slipped out of Yuze’s arse, and when retracted, he rolled Yuze over so that he lay on his knees on the bed, his upper body resting on the crumpled pile of the duvet. In this position, Cecir stroked Yuze’s cock while he licked the hole and prepared it for penetration, wetting it first with the aid of his tongue, and then opening it in exploratory fashion with his free hand, spitting inside. He soaked his own cock in a similar fashion. “All right,” he said, “it is time – I’m going in.”

Yuze felt the warm slimy glans prod against his sphincter, pressing its way in with a slight burning sensation, which soon gave way to simply a pleasant filling warmth as the tool slipped its way in. “This princess certainly has a lewd hole – it’s as if it is sucking me in!”

Yuze laughed, and Cecir began to fuck after getting onto the bed.

The bed trembled with each thrust. Yuze’s tied-up arms over his back, Cecir took hold of them and steadied himself with their aid, giving greater force to each thrust deep into Yuze’s insides. It was quite the uncomfortable position for Yuze, but that fact, somehow, made it more arousing. It was weird. A bit perverted, and he liked that.

“My prince! Spray my insides with your sperm!” he cried.

“But, surely princess, it is I who decides when and how to spray your insides?” Cecir said, and stopped his plunging motions, pulling his cock wholly out of Yuze’s arse, in fact, as if to punish.

“Ah, prince, don’t do this to me, I am sorry I insinuated I had anything to demand...! Master! Forgive me!”

“This insolence will require punishment more sophisticated, I believe,” Cecir said. He fished up a package of matches from his pocket as he walked to the candle on the bureau, pulled out a match, and lit it against the side of the package. Soon the candle burned, and he stood there waiting a little, casting glances towards Yuze now and then.

Yuze meanwhile squirmed on the bed, rolled over (it was less of an effort to lay on his side than on his knees), and waited with a smile. Obviously he had an inkling of where this was going, and he was curious.

Eventually Cecir came back towards the bed, this time holding the candle, little rivulets of wax moving down the sides in two, three places like lava flows.

“Your dick will be receiving some new stimulus,” Cecir said, and pushed up Yuze’s skirt to reveal the prick, which – of course – was still hard and showed not the slightest sign of losing its irate temperament.

“Won’t that hurt? My innocent dick!”

“It will hurt.”

Yuze moaned as he imagined a daft royal princess might when faced with such unknown, incomprehensible (to her) horrors.

He lay on his back again, and his cock stood up towards the ceiling. Cecir moved the skirt up more, to shield it from the wax, and then he dropped it; the first warm, soft piece landed right at the base of his cock, on the bridge between the shaft and the testes. It was a strange feeling. Like a cigarette burn, perhaps (Yuze had stopped smoking some fifteen years before, but remembered trying once, out of curiosity, to burn himself with it, just to see what it felt like), but gentler, somewhat soothing from the texture of the wax, like being caressed by a very warm finger...

“Have mercy, my lord!” he acted.

“Punishment must be duly accepted!” Cecir said, and lifted one of Yuze’s legs up, and as he moved closer he made it rest on his shoulder. Once this was done, he steered the ferocious angry snake that protruded from his yawning fly’s metal-serrated maw to Yuze’s anus, and buried it therein, between the soft arse-cheeks dotted by some slight blemishes. So while he resumed his fucking he let drip from the wax candle at regular intervals warm wax down on Yuze’s cock, which he also frigged intermittently. It was a weird sensation, warm, painful, yet also pleasant; the wax dried on the skin of his cock and the vicinity until Cecir brushed it off with skilful moves of his agile hands.

“I’m sorry, master, but I think—I am going to come!” Yuze moaned, and in the same moment as he finished the proclamation, his prick shot warm jets of semen which mixed with some of the recently dripped wax and flowed down over Cecir’s hand which now held the shaft in a steady grip. He didn’t seem to mind the ejaculation, for he moved his hand to his mouth and lapped it up as a dog might do to its bowl of food.

“Your spend is as sweet as you,” Cecir said when he had finished licking it off his hand. “And now, it is my turn to come inside you.”

“Oh—yes!”

Cecir increased the speed of his thrusts again. Forcefully his meat-stick burrowed itself in only to be retracted and the entire process restarted anew, like the pistons of machinery, like a chugging steam-engine, in and out; each time his cock withdrew Yuze’s sphincter clung to it like the lips of a lover, and as he approached his own orgasm, he leaned down over Yuze once again and kissed him on his defenceless mouth, their tongues dancing wetly, intertwined like the roots of mangrove trees, their bodies wet with sweat; Cecir came. Yuze felt his cock twitch inside his hole.

“As expected,” Cecir said, “you truly do not disappoint. You are everything I can hope for in a bride. You shall be my queen – if you accept, of course.”

“Ah, my love! My prince! Of course – no hesitation! To be with you is the greatest thing in the world to me. May we live, and rot and die together, may we never part.” Cecir’s cock was still inside of him, but he felt it shrink. Cecir leaned in close, and their mouths met, lips against lips, tongues against tongues, tongues to lips... Yuze quivered with pleasurable sensations. He felt fulfilment, happiness, warmth... Small rivulets of salty tears sprang from his eyes, tears of joy, to have someone close, someone to love, even on a day like today, a dire day, to turn thirty-six years in vain, yet with Cecir on top of him, the vanity seemed irrelevant. He hoped it would never end.

Cecir helped Yuze up, and untied the rope around his arms.

“It was fun, right?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” Yuze replied, “it was great.” He giggled a little. “We should do it again.”

“Of course,” Cecir said. “And the next time, I can tie your legs up, too. I need to work on my knots. It’s a fine art, tying people up, and I’m an amateur.”

“Don’t worry about that, what do I have to judge it by? But it is always nice to play with you, Cecir. I am glad that you are with me. I love you in earnest.”

“I love you, too, my queen, my everything, my centre of the universe, my piping madness...” They wrapped their arms around each other, and kissed again.

Outside, the weather was cold, and snow fell to the ground only to melt on the still warm ground. And the world turned as it had done billions of times before, and the night lay ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuze and Cecir enjoy a bit of role-reversal--

They had stopped. It was snowing lightly outside, just a trickle of obnoxious snowflakes sailing down from a cloudy sky, lit by the city’s radiant glow, orange-yellow and specks of green and blue and white. Cecir had just killed the engine and was about to open the door when he hesitated.

“This is a pretty seedy part of town,” he said. “Is this really where that romantic dinner is waiting?”

Yuze just nodded; Cecir got out. The door slammed shut on the driver’s side; Yuze followed suit, out into the snow. It melted quickly against the relative warmth of the asphalt of the road and the sidewalk, like lives snuffed out before their time, like galaxies devoured by ever-hungry black holes, rendered into nothing in the bowels of some profane singularity. Yuze opened the rear doors of the small car and pulled out a black leather suitcase. Cecir watched him quizzically, but didn’t ask until Yuze came up alongside him at the door to the establishment.

“What’s in that? You don’t usually carry suitcases around at times like this.”

“Oh, it’s a surprise.” Cecir didn’t pry any further in that direction. Yuze kept his lips sealed.

The door was small, and had no glass or windows; the building itself looked largely industrial; some of the cold and dread of the outside slipped in with them through the door, but those sickening tendrils were soon cut off.

“This doesn’t really look like a restaurant.”

“I never said anything about a restaurant. You assumed that.”

“Oh.” Cecir blushed. “But, what is it then?”

“Come,” Yuze said, taking Cecir’s hand and pulling him along down a small flight of stairs, through a door (the walls were dark, those that weren’t concrete were painted black, and red warm lights flooded the spaces like the blood of a thousand slaughtered uppity dolphins who, besides, needed to be culled to protect global fish populations, in a cove somewhere; until they reached a door which Yuze seemed to be looking for; with a key he unlocked it. “Here,” he said, “go inside.” He held the door open for Cecir, who went within. Yuze closed the door behind them; and Yuze flipped a switch near the door and flooded the dark chamber with a sharp light.

“This looks like a dungeon,” Cecir stated plainly, looking around; strange things on the walls, suspension equipment, shelves with odd implements, sex toys of all manner of types, from the most prosaic vibrating eggs to unclassifiable monstrosities that looked like animal appendages in agitated erection. “I assumed that would be something I’d be taking you to.”

“Oh, but the tables have turned, tonight,” Yuze replied readily, “and the queen demands your sacrifice; prince shall henceforth be princess.” A dramatic pause followed. “Take off your clothes.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

While Cecir undressed, Yuze knelt down next to the suitcase he had placed on the floor and opened it. He retrieved the red latex outfit and the thigh-high red ballet boots which he had received as a gift from Cecir not too long ago, and picked them up and handed them over to his now naked servant.

“This is the outfit I gave to you,” Cecir commented as he took it.

“Yes. I can’t afford actual latex. So, best to make as much use as possible of what we got, right?” He smiled, and then began to undress himself, slipping out of his fishnet arm-warmers, and reaching around to unzip the back of his dress (quite the acrobatic endeavour) far enough that he could get it over his head; he put it down next to the suitcase. He pulled his black panties down over his thin thighs and the black thigh-high boots.

“Are you going to be naked?” Cecir asked while he struggled to put on the boots.

“No, I got something new for myself.” Yuze bent over the suitcase. Cecir found himself looking at Yuze’s soft buttocks and the teasing cleft between them. He had just gotten his boots on, and could not resist the urge to touch, so he stood up (he had previously been leaning against that weird chair in the centre of the room) and reached for Yuze’s arse. He had however not anticipated how hard it would be to stand with the ballet heels, so before he could cop a feel of the smooth skin he tripped forwards and landed, rather painfully for his knees, right behind Yuze.

Yuze straightened out and turned around and looked with admonishment at Cecir, clearly not pleased.

“S—sorry,” Cecir said, getting up onto his knees. His right hand reached then for Yuze’s half-hard prick, and took a firm hold of it, and began to wank it.

Yuze did not move. “Who said you could do that?”

“I took certain liberties...” His hand was still there, though he stopped moving.

“You did, and that is wrong. Let go of my prick.”

Cecir let his hand fall to the ground.

”Finish getting dressed.”

”Y… yes...,” Cecir said, and then seemed to remember something, and added: “my queen.”

“That’s the right tone for an obedient princess.” Yuze turned back to his previous preoccupation – dressing himself – while he heard Cecir stumble uneasily back towards the strange chair, followed by the creaking of the rubber dress. Yuze lifted up his own outfit and slipped through it, and reached around to pull up the zipper in the back. It was a shiny affair, full blue, PVC – the poor man’s latex – and had a short skirt which, in the front, was cut shorter, so as to reveal the sex. It had long loose sleeves and ruffles at the high neckline. It hugged Yuze’s body snugly. Dressed, he reached down into the suitcase and retrieved a black elastic cock-ring, and with some work managed to get it to close around the base of the testes and cock. Perhaps it would make it possible to keep an erection for some time even after spending, at least, that was what he hoped. He had tried it before, just after he bought it, just to see if it was of a usable dimension and not so tight as to be irremovable and result in an embarrassing hospital visit.

Done, he turned back towards Cecir, who had now managed to don the red latex dress and had sat down on the chair.

Cecir looked at him, unsure, perhaps, expectant. His erection was visible as a minor volcano in the groin-hemisphere, a protrusion of the skirt-shield. Yuze took a few steps towards him, then stopped.

“You have permission to suck – in fact, it’s your duty, now,” he said and smiled. Cecir was obediently silent and leaned forward and took the staff in his greedy mouth. His lips moving up and down along the shaft, traces of his purple lipstick clung to its sides as he withdrew. There was a smell of strawberries – was it from the lipstick, Yuze wondered? His cock was now standing at full mast, warm, beating with a hearty pulse, the eager electricity of desire. Eventually Yuze pulled back, and Cecir nearly fell off the chair in an attempt to follow.

“We must begin throne-training forthwith,” Yuze said. “You must learn to sit upright and keep still.” He walked to one side, and fastened to Cecir’s arm – which he pulled on to get it in the right place – some straps that were part of the chair’s design. When his arms were fastened with the buckles, Yuze fastened his legs in a similar fashion.

“Now,” he said finally, “for the final little surprise. This is not a normal chair, no, for it has certain features—a particular one I’m very fond of. It’s ingenious, really.” Standing to the side of the chair, he reached for a lever thereon fixed, a wooden handle, and began to turn it. Soon Cecir was acquainted with the chair’s special feature.

“Ah—!” he whinged, “what is that! Something—” he paused, “moving near my butt!”

“Just keep still, so it can get in,” Yuze said as he kept on turning the lever.

“It’s cold!”

“Keep still.”

The lever creaked some and Cecir shivered as the spiral glass dildo slipped into his hole. He squirmed somewhat, perhaps that too due to the cold, and soon, the lever could go no further. It was all in, it seemed. The entry had been much briefer than anticipated – had Cecir been playing with himself before they left, perhaps? Not entirely satisfied with the readiness with which Cecir’s anus accommodated the spiral dildo, he began turning the lever back – it went faster that way, and then began turning it up slowly. Cecir made more silly grimaces as it went in – and, what was that? – a sliver of drool? – perhaps.

“Is it comfortable?”

Cecir didn’t give any answer except incomprehensible porn-clip moans while gritting his teeth. Probably due to the coldness of the glass. It reached the top again; full insertion. Yuze let go of it, and walked to the front. He squatted down before Cecir and brushed up the skirt, revealing the fine length standing rigid, pulsating with slight aroused spasms. He put his hand around the shaft and tugged, then leaned in closer and took it in his mouth, thinking of lost childhood moments, a fragment of eating a hotdog bought from a riverside vendor some long-ago summer unbearably hot; with this thought, he scraped his teeth softly against the glans, making Cecir cringe and moan. Having wetted the tool appropriately, he let it slip out with a parting kiss on the tip, and stood up.

The chair was quite wide, so it was no feat for Yuze to get a foot up on either side of Cecir’s thighs, and standing up, he readied himself to sit down upon Cecir’s prick.

“Ah! But—!” Cecir began objecting in the most un-princess-like tone, “That thing’s still in my arse! If you sit down now—!”

“Then what?” Yuze said dismissively. “It’s no use. Live with it. Or I have to gag you. Do you want that? You’ll be drooling even more than you already are!” Yuze looked down into Cecir’s dark brown eyes and smiled with clear superiority. “You should be grateful you get to fuck me like this,” he added, as he squatted down and felt Cecir’s throbbing erection hit up against his perineum, tickling. He reached down with a hand and aimed the rock-hard member at his hole, and eased himself down further upon it. Cecir let out cute whinging noises that seemed to belong to exotic marsupials rather than humans, but that was part of the charm.

Yuze quivered as the cock slipped into his flesh-cavern, warm and wet. Transparent fluid leaked from the slit at the tip of his own, and he reached down and grabbed it, wanking it, slowly, as he began to ride, letting Cecir’s slick dick slip in and out of his arse.

“Tell me how grateful you are to fuck me, princess!” Yuze panted.

Cecir blushed and looked down towards Yuze’s cock.

“Princess is—” he stuttered, “very grateful to get to fuck the beautiful queen!”

“Indeed! Even though you’ve been bad and deserve punishment you’re bestowed with this honour!” With his free left hand he reached up towards Cecir’s right nipple and squeezed it (exposed as it were through the opening across the chest of the outfit) as if to draw milk therefrom. Cecir gritted his teeth.

“Ah—!” Yuze gasped, “almost there!” He let Cecir’s cock slip out, and put his knees to the side of Cecir’s thighs. “Get ready to receive! Take the font in your mouth! And drink it like it’s precious milk!” His hand around it, in a solid grip, frigged viciously; Cecir leaned his head in, and Yuze pushed himself forward; a tongue slipped out and greeted his glans as he finished the final leg of the race and ejaculated profusely, shoving his dick into Cecir’s mouth.

Panting, Yuze pulled out, then climbed off the chair, heels clicking against the hard floor.

He reached for his cock, and flopped it up and down playfully in its sad, spent state.

“I guess I’ll have to think of something to do to you until my orgone is reloaded,” Yuze said. He surveyed the shelves along one of the walls but after finding nothing that particularly caught his attention as appropriate for the situation, he went to a small, hard-to-detect cupboard, hidden in one of the corners of the room.

Cecir kept quiet in the background while he rummaged through it on a quest for something warm, something—well, it didn’t really matter. Anything _hot_.

A set of red, thick candles was on one of the shelves within. He hovered over those for a while, and thought of that time Cecir had poured hot wax on his cock. Next to them was a small, bright green lighter, to aid in the candles’ lighting, undoubtedly. He lit one, and took it back towards Cecir.

“I have something you’re going to like,” Yuze said happily as he returned. “I found some candles! Now I can wax you! You know – like how you wax a car.”

Cecir looked away with something like embarrassment.

“Don’t be like that! It’s a pleasant treat.”

Yuze let some wax drip off the candle and into his hand. Warm and soft, so smooth, cooling so quickly—

Cecir looked quite uncomfortable where he sat strapped to the chair. And he would be more uncomfortable still—

“Say ah,” Yuze said.

“What if that thing is dirty!”

“Oh, so what? I doubt this is very dirty, and besides, what of all the times you put your cock in my mouth after you had it in my arse?”

Cecir opened his mouth despite a slight pout.

Yuze pushed the bottom of the candle in.

“Keep it there.” The candle inclined, molten hot wax began quickly to drip. Cecir’s cock still stood up in his lap. Once a droplet of wax landed upon his exposed, raw glans, he grimaced and must have come close to biting down or letting go altogether. “Don’t drop it. I don’t want you to ruin that dress.” He smiled playfully, then he leaned along the side of the chair, and began to move anew the crank that controlled the dildo’s movements.

Cecir moaned, but his twitching just made it drip more frequently.

Yuze laughed with feigned cruelty, as a third-rate super-villain in a terrible comic that never caught on yet was seen fit to be revived for a tasteless hundred-million dollar budget film which was so dumb and awful and... made up more than well for its bloated budget.

Cecir’s kept up the odd grimace, and then – much to Yuze’s surprise – he ejaculated. Forming at the top of the glans and mixing with the light molten wax, whiteness flowed, and ran down the sides of his cock.

“My!” Yuze exclaimed, “I never knew you were such a masochist as to come from pain like that! You really are a perverted little princess, aren’t you?”

Cecir didn’t reply, just looked embarrassed, blushing.

Yuze took the candle out of Cecir’s mouth, stood it down on the floor, and drew the spiral dildo back into the chair with the lever. He then unfastened Cecir from the straps on the chair.

“It’s time for the final course,” Yuze said, “I’m hard again. It’s going in you this time. You will receive the queen’s seed!” Yuze took Cecir’s hand and helped him get off the chair. “Get on all fours.”

Keeping quiet, Cecir did as instructed and bowed down on all fours. Yuze knelt behind him, pushed a finger into his arse, prodding, twisting, and then reached for the candle while aiming his cock into the slot with the other hand.

Cecir’s anus offered little resistance – disappointing but none too surprising. The smoothness of entry didn’t preclude a cute gasp, and Yuze hadn’t yet even begun spattering those buttocks with hot wax. He held the candle in front of him as he grasped Cecir’s hip and slowly thrust, his cock pushing to and fro inside. Then he tilted his hand.

“Ah!” Yuze exclaimed, heart racing. The first couple drops of wax had fallen on the shaft of his own penis half-way out of Cecir. The shock almost made him ejaculate right then. He enclosed his cock again in Cecir’s arsehole and the wax-drip hit its mark this time: those beautiful mounds of pale flesh beneath him. Cecir whimpered.

The next time Yuze pulled back, he deliberately dropped hot wax on his own cock. He loved the feeling, thanks to Cecir; and prepared this time, he didn’t approach an early spend. He thrust himself back in before the wax had cooled, hoping Cecir would notice it.

“What—ah—what is...”

“How does it feel inside?” Yuze asked.

Cecir panted. “Weird...”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“Not really.”

He dripped more on Cecir’s rump, on his tail-bone, between his buttocks, and on his own cock as he fucked. Moaning, Cecir started moving his hips by himself, the harlot. Yuze smacked a buttock then. “You’d better not come from this, you slutty princess. I am cultivating your materia for later consumption. There will be serious consequences if you waste it.”

“I... won’t,” Cecir said, tensing up, trying to keep from releasing. Yuze blew out the candle and reached back, sticking it in his arse to help himself along. And soon he fed Cecir’s arse a creamy dessert.

By the time he retrieved his cock it still had a stubborn erection, thanks to the cock-ring. He’d read about the horrible dangers of leaving one on too long, and decided it was time for a break. Stretching and pulling, he got it off, feeling relieved. Then he glanced at Cecir’s throbbing erection, and knew where the ring of power was needed next.

“Ah,” Cecir protested, “what are you doing to me—my cock?”

Another stretch, a pull and a tug, and it fit snugly behind Cecir’s balls, squeezing the base of his shaft. “That should keep your beautiful erection stable while the milk replenishes,” Yuze said, and stroked it, giving it a quick jerk as if he were trying to milk an udder. “Now, back to the chair.”

“What?!”

Yuze stood, the candle slipping out of him, and pulled Cecir up by the arm. “You heard me! By royal decree, the princess is to sit back down on the throne. If that basic duty cannot be performed, there are punishments—”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” Cecir slipped out of Yuze’s grasp and made his way to the chair, erection bouncing with each step. Yuze wanted it bad, but at this stage he knew the spending would not be up to standard – would not be thick and milky as befitted consumption by someone in his present position.

Cecir sat, bracing himself as Yuze approached, cringing as Yuze grasped the crank and began to turn it. He still cringed when the spiral was well inside him. Yuze went and rifled through the drawers. In a low one he found a short black whip with multiple rubber thongs—a cat-o’-nine-tails. Perfect for stirring things up, he thought, and took it.

Sitting on the impaling throne, Cecir wriggled his hips, his erection twitching and looking almost a third larger than Yuze had ever seen it before. And as Cecir reached to stroke himself, the sudden realisation hit Yuze that he had forgot to refasten the bindings on the princess’ limbs, but it didn’t seem to matter now. He only opened his eyes again when Yuze tickled his cock with the cat-o’-nine-tails.

“W-what’s that... a whip?” He sounded scared.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Yuze said, poking Cecir’s testes with the top of the handle. “I know these things can hurt a lot, but you’ve not done anything to tempt a proper flogging... yet.” He leaned in and forced his tongue through Cecir’s lips, gently batting his cock with the whip handle.

Breaking away with a thread of saliva for one moment trailing, Yuze got down on his knees and caught Cecir’s scrotum in his luscious lips, pinching and pulling here and there, his cheeks and nose brushing Cecir’s throbbing cock. Why haven’t I come already? Cecir wondered. He guessed his body was being obedient. He let out a little cry when Yuze suddenly sucked up a testicle.

Yuze’s whip-hand tickled his cock with the flat rubber tails while he sucked his testes. Cecir reached down automatically, his fingers running through the pretty bleached hair of the head between his thighs. Then Yuze stopped.

“Don’t mess up my hair,” he said. Cecir retrieved his hand, and felt the handle of the whip buried in his scrotum again as Yuze’s tongue ran up along the underside of his shaft.

“S-sorry,” Cecir said. “I forgot my place...”

Yuze’s lips enveloped his glans, drew in his shaft along undulated tongue. Maybe that meant he was forgiven. Maybe not. The whip handle roughly prodded him and pushed about his balls as Yuze went down on him. It still felt great; Cecir’s heart raced, his breathing changed. He thought he was close to coming – when Yuze’s face moved off him, letting his unfulfilled erection escape with a smooch.

It glistened and throbbed, and Yuze smiled at it. Then he swatted it with the whip’s rubber thongs. It didn’t hurt, at first, but the flick of Yuze’s wrist seemed angrier with each pass. Eventually, it hurt, and Cecir covered his own mouth to muffle a moan. At that point Yuze stopped whipping him, and reached for the crank, lowering the spiral dildo back into the seat.

With effort Cecir held back his climax. Examining his cock, he was relieved to find it not bleeding – although there were red marks on it. The torture had only made it more eager for release, but Cecir had a lot of willpower, and knew blowing his load on the queen’s face would not go without some severe punishment. When the dildo had exited him fully, he sat, awaiting Yuze’s orders.

The queen seemed to be thinking something over, looking at the thing he held, and at Cecir’s cock. Suddenly he pressed Cecir’s arsehole with the bottom of the whip handle. “Hold onto this with your anus,” Yuze said, twisting it in all the way. Cecir clenched. “Now get off the chair, down on all fours again. I want to see the princess’ new fashion.” Yuze gave him some space.

And he did as ordered, slipping off the chair and turning onto his hands and knees. He hoped this part wouldn’t last long – his knees had been aching since he fell earlier. Carefully, he crawled away from the chair, figuring the queen would get a better view of him that way.

To Yuze, the princess looked to have nine rubber tails now. “Adorable!” he said. “The princess looks adorable with all those tails! I suppose something has been earned.” Saying that, he lay down on his back, and pulled up his knees. “It’s time for harvest,” he said, craning his neck, looking at Cecir between his thighs. “Give me all your seed in here, and I’ll ensure a prosperous future for you.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking when Cecir looked down on him, clutching his thighs. In a split second Yuze felt his cock prodding for entry, and it had got so over-engorged that it really hurt going in for the first time in more than a month. “Ah,” he gasped, “be more gentle – this kind of carelessness would be a capital offence under a less forgiving ruler!”

“I can’t hold back now!” Cecir said, burying his shaft inside with a few decisive thrusts.

Yuze cried. “This isn’t any way a princess should treat the queen...” But Cecir did slow down once the whole shaft of his spear had penetrated the defences. He took a hand off one of Yuze’s thighs to pay tribute to his cock – by now also quite hard – while he fucked.

Repeatedly his hips squished against Yuze’s buttocks as he shoved himself in to the hilt with increasing force. And the grip around Yuze’s cock tightened when Cecir let out a moan and paused in his thrusts. His cock seemed to grow even bigger inside for a moment, then Yuze felt the warm spend seeping out around it.

“I’m overflowing!” Yuze said. Cecir tried to pull out, but Yuze wrapped his legs around him, holding him close, not letting him escape. “Keep thrusting! And pay more mind stroking my cock – you still need to make me come.”

“A-ah... as you wish, my queen.”

Cecir’s cock, though still erect thanks to the ring, had become sensitive after orgasm to the point of almost hurting when it slipped even a little to or fro. But lovers have duties to each other, he thought – princesses have duties to queens. He would bear it.

He drooled, deliberately, getting Yuze’s cock slippery as he stroked it. The disgusting squelching sounds with the smooth glide always brought him around faster.

“What is that... what are you doing...?” Yuze tried to crane his head up to see, but his neck seemed to have grown tired. “Did you—ah!” He stretched out his legs. “In your mouth – pull out now and stroke me to a spend with your tongue ready to catch it!”

Cecir retrieved himself, and the next moment he was flicking Yuze’s glans with his tongue while he squeezed and stroked his slimy shaft. Suddenly there were hands to the back of his head, forcing him down on Yuze. He tasted semen on the back of his tongue.

“Swallow it all, darling princess – it’s your reward!”

There was little choice for Cecir but to swallow. He was glad; his whole body filled with a warm tingling sensation as he ingested the queen’s seed. When Yuze had slipped out of his throat, he kept slurping at his cock-head to be sure he got everything. Yuze caressed his neck and shoulder.

“You’re so sweet, Cecir,” he murmured. “You really took better to this role-switching than I thought you would.”

Cecir sat up on his knees. “That’s because I love you, and I want to make you feel good in whatever way you like.” Yuze’s face was getting emotional, and he tried to hide it – Cecir saved him the trouble and hugged him.

How long had the embrace on the floor lasted? Cecir couldn’t say, but he was the one who broke it off, falling back. “Oh my cock’s still hard! It’s starting to—it’s changing colour!”

“Shit—” Yuze rushed to remove the ring of power. It wouldn’t do to have his dear one’s tool needing amputation. “Now stand up and walk,” he said after getting it off him. “It should... it should get your blood flowing right again – I hope.”

Cecir hoped, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuze drags Cecir out on an expedition to explore weird hints suggested by an uncanny volume-- cross-country trip ensues.

The night ate the day. The night growled like an angry tiger—or perhaps it was the whinge of the tires against the asphalt as the miles rolled out behind them, as the earth cracked and convulsed in some titanic upheaval. The number of cars on the road decreased, till at last it was just Cecir and Yuze, barrelling through the blackness, interrupted only by the occasional parking or service area along the motorway or the lights at a junction; like fireflies the distant glow of some settlement nestled between the mountains; the orange oesophagus of a tunnel that ate them and let them pass through undigested. A lorry passing on the other carriageway, beyond the steel guardrail. The night...

“Aren’t we going to stop soon?” Cecir cut the silence. “We’ve been going for a while now. Petrol is expensive.”

“Maybe. Soon.” Yuze looked at the fuel gauge, but there was still some time before they’d have to refuel; he pushed the pedal down and exceeded the speed limit by a bit. It was low, anyhow—100 kilometres an hour, even on this high-standard road—why did he feel under such pressure?

“Where are we even going?”

“I don’t know,” Yuze said. “Where the road ends, perhaps. You didn’t ask before.”

“I thought we were just going to Koriyama. You mentioned the city before we left. But we’re well past that now.”

The speed slipped up past 130. Dark hillsides all around, the motorway passing on a viaduct above a valley, cut through the hill-side, dug out as if by some powerful gods.

“I don’t know where we are going.”

“Cryptic.”

“Cryptic, but honest.” Yuze smiled at Cecir and paused for a while. Cecir looked out the passenger side window. Signs flashing past. “I just feel like I have to run,” Yuze said. “Anywhere... out of it all. From the city. From civilisation, perhaps.”

“Where to? The forest? Are we going to run into the woods like mad Maoists, survivalists and some primitivists?”

“The forest...” Yuze said dreamily. “The forest bathed in moon-light...”

“But you can’t well walk around the forest with those shoes,” Cecir imparted.

Yuze focused on the road, road markings zipping past. “I don’t think that’s the answer, either. The forest is a false refuge, anyhow. You think you’re in another realm, but you’re not. It’s still this one same world, this one same system—it’s nature we’re running from, going anywhere, far from here. Can’t you feel it?”

“I don’t know.” Cecir looked out the window again; out there: the world. The car felt like a space ship then, penetrating the atmosphere, slipping out past the planets, past the sun, into the interstellar aether, past rocks and comets with swirling gaseous tails glowing pale blue in the presence of some star—

“Everyone can feel it, if they just leave their eyes open,” Yuze said, “it’s something that’s always there. You try to cover it up with fragments of a window that filters out the blackness. But it always seeps through... _always_...”

“We are going somewhere, aren’t we?”

“We’re going to Wakkanai.”

“We’re not even half-way! And what the hell are we going there for?”

“I need to check something out.”

“And this can’t be done anywhere but Wakkanai?”

“No. Technically it’s not Wakkanai, but it’s close.”

Cecir sighed. “What has gotten into you now? Is it the end of the world?”

“It’s always the end of the world. One second at a time and whatever. Unquestionably, every moment is being eaten away. Any moment a rock from space might land on us and end all life on this planet. But no, it’s not like that. At least, not that I know of.” He made a pause, switched the high-beams off for a coming car on the opposite carriageway.

“I read about something, in a book,” Yuze continued. “I dropped by a bookshop, I was out for a walk, nothing to do, and went inside. It was snowing outside—it was about two months ago. Though at first it seemed like a very conventional bookshop, filled to the brim with sub-par literature that sells like butter to the illiterate and semi-illiterate dregs whose standard is so base it can scarcely be called a standard, I soon found a little door. I thought at first it was a bathroom, perhaps kept down there in the basement shop like memorabilia of the past—it was an old wooden door, not in keeping with the chic remainder, nestled within a half-hidden niche beyond a white-painted varnished bookshelf. I was curious about it, because it seemed so out of place. So out of... time. I went on in; and there was another section to the bookshop there, filled with ageing volumes, leather-bound, some bound in something I have no idea what it was. It looked like thick black tar had drenched the covers, and seemed to flow like grease when you looked at it, colours playing as in a kaleidoscope, but when you touched it, there was no stain or grease on your fingers, and it felt as smooth as flat-surface plastic. Many were in foreign languages, and others still, languages written in characters I know are no living tongue spoken on this planet...”

“Aliens?” Cecir scoffed.

“Or dead languages, what do I know? That’s beside the point. They were all weird, and that’s what is important. It wasn’t the sort of books you keep with hope to sell them—it’s the sort you keep either because you’re a habitual hoarder or you want creepy backdrops for a film. Not even the sort of books you keep to look intelligent. It was quiet, and the person at the counter whom I had not even noticed cannot have seen me enter there. I looked in one of the books. I have no idea what was in it, but it had on some pages illustrations that looked like they were originally etchings; it was the basic set-up for the horrific; the machinations of torture, various medieval implements, snapshots of people with more of their vitals outside than inside, that sort of thing. People eating meat at a table, hooks adorned with dead people behind them, just so you know that it was cannibalism you were witnessing. But among these books, I found, lying casually on a shelf as if someone had forgotten it there, covered in dust, a smaller book which appeared legible to me. On its cover was the relief of an old long-case clock. I took it, and sat down in this old wicker chair that stood against a wall with a high-set window that let in some light, and there I read in it.

“It said that there is a place, one of many in this world, where the various edges of worlds intersect. Worlds is what it said. The place we’re going to is one of those places.”

“What made you believe it was true, and not some elaborate joke?” Cecir retorted.

“I’m not one to believe just anything. I have my doubts on the accuracy of that book. It’s in the sports bag in the back if you want to look at it while we continue driving. We’ll stop at some hotel in Morioka. We just passed a sign—sixteen kilometres left, if that’s fine with you. Then, it’s the ferry to Hokkaido tomorrow.”

“Are we in a hurry?”

“Not really,” Yuze said, “but don’t you have work on Monday?” It’s two days’ drive to there, then two back, if we _don’t_ speed.”

“If they lay me off, they lay me off. Pay’s shit, anyway. I can get something equal. Or better. Hopefully. We’ll see, I guess.”

Yuze gave him a bit of a concerned look, but Cecir seemed earnest. “I don’t want to guarantee anything. It’s not like I have confidence that it is real, where we are going. So if all goes south and we’re off on an expensive trip for no reason... just so you know.”

“Don’t worry about it. Even if it’s nothing important—it’s a trip together, right?”

Yuze nodded and felt warmth spread in his body—ahead, through the night, the lights of Morioka, set against dark backdrop of hills shrouded in faintly illuminated clouds. It began to snow.

 

*

They left the car in the half-empty car park outside of a small hotel that, though new, seemed to have been trying to imitate, tackily, a traditional inn. This caused the exterior to look remarkably garish where it rose two storeys high with a slanting grey-shingle roof and dark wooden exterior cladding on a hill two blocks of detached homes from the National Route 4. The area was mostly relatively flat and just down the hill southward there were fields, now white with a thickening blanket of snow. The temperature was minus one, and the air was still; they went inside and asked for a single room, preferably with a spacious bed, like a couple’s suite; at least, that’s what Cecir said. The woman at the reception looked a bit perplexed, as if what he said was superfluous—perhaps she had assumed they were a couple all along; but at any rate, she took their (Cecir’s) money and as the hour was late, going past eleven, most people surely slept already and staff had gone home, she shewed them herself to their room, and handed over the key. Perhaps she had even fancied Yuze was a woman; he had not said a word.

On the bed Yuze laid the sports bag of packing he carried with him. While the exterior may have been in the cheapest permissible way, the room was not too shabby; dark wood frames, wooden floor, well polished, a large double bed, tasteful lamps on either side thereof; a modern bathroom—a television set on a chest of drawers along the long wall.

Yuze wiped what was left of grit off his boots on the welcome mat at the door, took off his shiny black jacket whose inner lining was soft and warm white fake fur, and hung it on the coat hanger; Cecir slipped past him, taking off his jacket and hanging up too, though his dress otherwise was plain trousers and a shirt—Yuze had picked him up right after he got off work.

“What are you wearing?” Cecir asked, surprised at Yuze’s unusual get-up.

“This?” Yuze smiled at him and let his pleated, knee-length skirt fall down, revealing the lower half. “It’s just a swimsuit.” His bulge was obvious in the shiny black one-piece competition swimsuit. “Like what you see?” Lower down, a pair of stockings slipped up his thigh past the end of his thigh-high boots; to match the blackness, black lipstick contrasted with his bleach-blonde hair which was tied up in two long bunches.

“I like... this,” Cecir said; standing close by he reached and put his hand up against the bulge. It wasn’t hard, but if he kept it up, it would surely be in seconds, so Yuze cut him off.

“Just wait a little,” he said and cocked his head, “I have to... visit the ladies room.” He laughed quietly and put his hand to his chin instinctively due to the embarrassment, then spun on his heels and went into the bathroom.

When he came out, Cecir had his trousers down and was treating an erection.

“Hey!” Yuze said, “who said you could just go and start that?”

“I’m sorry!” Cecir exclaimed, “I just couldn’t keep away from it. I was thinking about you...”

“Oh. I suppose you are forgiven then, but you’d better... come here... and treat mine.”

“I kind of need to use the restroom too.”

“Pft! You can do that afterwards—I can see that you are hard, and you won’t whizz too swiftly when you are, so—come here, lick me.”

Giving a feigned pout, Cecir got onto his knees and walked in that manner up towards Yuze, and leaned over the bulge of the swimsuit crotch. He rubbed it with a hand, gliding up and down over the soft, plastic-like fabric, before he put his mouth to it, licking it through the cloth.

“Mmmh,” Yuze whinged, and put a hand on Cecir’s head, pushing it back on his bulge. “Good boy, maybe you want a better dummy?”

“Perhaps... if it is on offer?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you know!” Yuze pulled the snug bottom of the swimsuit to the side and revealed his cock without obstruction. “Here, take it—suck on it like a dummy!”

“Okay, mum,” Cecir said; Yuze laughed.

Cecir took it in beyond his lips. Yuze patted his head as if comforting, feeling Cecir’s tongue play on the head, down along the shaft—

“How about you get up on the bed there—it’s good you already took off your trousers and underwear.”

Cecir spat Yuze’s wet, saliva-glistening cock out.

“I didn’t wear any underwear,” he said.

“Oh, you little pervert. That is all good and well, then, now get up there and present your rump! And no stroking, unless I stroke it for you.”

Cecir stood up, jerked Yuze’s prick before he walked off, then crawled onto the bed. Yuze followed him, dick armed and ready for the breaking and entering about to ensue; Cecir on all fours on the bed, shoving a finger in his bottom—Yuze leaned in on it, spat on Cecir’s finger.

Thereafter he climbed on the bed—it was soft, and a bit hard to stand on with his high-heels, but he wouldn’t have to stand for long—just until he got it in. Still with the swimsuit parted, he brushed Cecir’s hand away, and pushed the cock saliva-slippery cock inside slowly. He interrupted the incursion now and then to hump it slightly, to ease the penetration—but it wasn’t like this was a rare thing, so soon Cecir’s arse adjusted to the cock’s dimensions and the sphincter gave way like a rubber band.

Yuze squeezed himself down against Cecir’s warm, trembling body, but as he put his legs up, Cecir’s legs, weakened by the penetration, gave way, and Cecir fell flat on the bed.

“Wooh—!” Yuze vociferated as if it was an amusement ride; his cock was still firmly lodged in Cecir’s anal cavity. “Did it hurt?”

“A little. Not bad.”

“Sorry.” Yuze stretched his legs out, and his hands clutched Cecir’s; then he began to thrust. He leaned in towards Cecir’s head—as close as he could get, and whispered in his ear. “I’ll impregnate your shit-womb—you’ll be swollen with my babies!”

Cecir couldn’t avert a laugh.

“What are you laughing at?!” Yuze objected and his thrusts became deeper and harder—at least that was what he tried. “Regardless of your obstinate laughter, your arse-cunt is greedily sucking my cock in. It’s like a black hole! And soon—it will be blocked up by babies.”

A few thrusts later, Yuze spent inside. He squeezed himself against Cecir, kept his cock lodged inside as it drivelled and shrank. It eventually slipped out, and when it happened, Yuze reached for the sports bag, where nestled under his mobile phone, make-up kit and the weird book lay an anal plug; he fetched it up and licked it wet while glancing at Cecir. “This will prevent any babies prematurely escaping; you won’t take it out till morning!”

“My bottom will be sore then!”

“Well, I guess tomorrow you’ll be fucking me, then. That’s good too. Right?”

“O... okay.”

Then Yuze began pushing the plug in. It wasn’t the largest he had in his extensive collection, but brought specifically for use in Cecir’s behind. When it was securely lodged in the anus with only the flared base as testimony, Yuze told Cecir to flip around; that way, Cecir’s cock, out of the tip of which drivelled some transparent pre-come, was easily accessible; Yuze licked it from the sack to the tip along the length of the shaft, leaving vague blackish lipstick traces along the way, eventually focusing on the warm glans, slipping his tongue against its surface, scraping playfully with his teeth; Cecir let out a noise that made Yuze think of a playing kitty.

“Hnghh—!” inarticulate moans followed from Cecir as Yuze took the cock into his throat a few times, and that seemed to be Cecir’s limit, already stretched by the fucking, for he came then and there and filled Yuze’s mouth with warm, sticky semen, which he promptly swallowed after spitting the cock out.

“At least I don’t leak babies, they’re all going right into my stomach!” Yuze said; while backing off, he gave Cecir’s dying erection a few tugs which were rewarded by silly grimaces.

Cecir rolled off the bed, while Yuze sat down on the edge and unzipped his shoes and slipped out of them. He saw Cecir scurry towards the bathroom.

“Hey, wait a little.”

Cecir pouted. “I really have to go.”

“You just spent. It’s hard to piss like that, you know. Might as well wait.”

“For what?”

Yuze pulled off his thick long stockings, and dropped them on the floor next to the shoes.

Yuze was on his bare feet, walked up to Cecir, and took his hand and dragged him into the bathroom.

“Are you going to take a bath or shower?” Cecir asked.

“I am, but first—I, uhm...” he paused. “I want you to piss on me.”

Cecir blushed and looked for a split second both surprised and perplexed.

“Piss?”

“Yes, piss on me. In the tub.”

“That’s...”

“Oh, come on. It’s fun.” Yuze’s bulge was growing anew, though he had just spent. “You did it once before.”

“That was just an extremely embarrassing accident; I thought I could hold it in!”

“So? Now, I’m asking you to! Wash me with your bodily effluvia! Not like it’s any weirder than sperm.” Yuze stepped into the small, deep combined bath and shower, and sat his bottom down. “Go ahead, let it come!”

Cecir’s prick was still somewhat inflated, though not stiff; he pulled his shirt up and off his head and threw it on the toilet seat.

“Fine, fine,” Cecir said, “I’ll give you the golden shower you want.”

“Yeah! Gimme!”

Yuze leaned back.

“It will ruin your make-up though.”

“So what? I’m going to wash myself. Piss away!”

Cecir’s eyes closed with concentration as he gathered the strength to try to get the yellow river to flood as it did in 1931; Yuze leaned slightly closer, and then it started coming.

Some squirted on Yuze’s face; he instinctively parried, and felt it wet his swimsuit; felt it tickle his body, flowing down; and the thought that it came from Cecir made his cock so hard—he rubbed it through the suit; he opened his mouth and tasted it—it was a weird, difficult to describe flavour, but not altogether unpleasant—though if it had been, he’d not have minded. He swallowed some—after all, as he had said, it was little different from sperm, wasn’t it? He felt it gather around him, flowing down along the tub, to his feet—he leaned forward when the stream eventually ended after Cecir shook his cock, and embraced the cock with his mouth, just for a brief, cleansing suck.

“I really need to sleep—“ Cecir said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been up since six in the morning.”

“It’s okay, go on ahead. I’ll just rub one out solo and wash myself, and come to bed.”

Cecir nodded. “What about tooth brushes? Did you bring mine?”

“Oops. Sorry. We can buy some as we leave tomorrow?”

Cecir cocked his head as he left as if to say that was okay, and then went on out and closed the door.

Yuze pulled the swimsuit bottom aside again, pulled out his cock and started to frig himself, thinking of the piss that was quickly cooling on his body, dripping; it was in a way almost a good as being inside Cecir; to have that which came from inside on him—he spent then, and then stood up, and turned on the water, slipped out of the swimsuit and started washing it off.

After he showered and dried his hair and brushed it lazily, as well as did his own business—in the toilet—he put the swimsuit back on, and walked quietly out of the bathroom. It was almost midnight, and outside the city was resting though bathed in snow, and he turned the blinds—he didn’t want the light to wake them up too early. Cecir was snoring gently, and all else was quiet.

Yuze slipped down slowly beneath the duvet, and positioned himself on the side, facing Cecir’s back. He put his arms around, and squeezed softly; Cecir seemed to stir in his sleep, but did not wake up. Yuze closed his eyes and thought with hopeful anticipation on the promises of the book, while still careful not to get his hopes up too high; it could all be a lie, like so much else, after all—but that night he slept well and remembered no troublesome dreams.

 

*

When Yuze awoke, Cecir sat in a sofa in the corner of the room, next to the television set, and was reading _the book_. Yuze rolled towards him, still wrapped in the duvet; Cecir heard the movements and looked up from the pages.

“Find it interesting?”

“It certainly is weird, as you said,” Cecir replied. “There’s no title, no printing date, or location. There are subtitles inside it—but some of them seem to have no connection to the content of the things they head; it’s as if it is there just to confuse and muddy the waters.”

“I know! That’s what makes it so mysterious. Did you read the part about the cave?”

“Yeah. But what does it mean? Talks about some nebulous, ‘power of the trespasser’, the ‘breaching of the plastic borders’ and the ‘spheres outside of time’, whatever that means. One can guess, of course. But it doesn’t seem to say anything clear—what happens if you go through this ‘gate’? And what about the key it mentions—are you sure this isn’t just fiction? Keys seem like a convenient little McGuffin.”

“Sure, and of course, I don’t know. I just feel it. Fun trip anyhow, right?”

“Mmm.” He turned his gaze back to the book, and flipped a page, but it appeared his thoughts were elsewhere.

Cecir put the book away and headed to the bathroom, gathering his clothes up—Yuze thought they might well have to stop by some shop somewhere and buy him something more _presentable_ —presentable in Yuze’s view that was; though it was oddly fitting something he had planned. He was excited to see what Cecir’s reaction would be when he put on that dress he bought in a cheap, used items shop. He heard the water start in the bathroom, and crawled out of bed and went on in.

Cecir stood in the shower; he leaned against the wall, and was trying to take the plug Yuze had put in last night out.

“Want help with that?”

“Oh.” He blushed profusely. “Maybe.”

Yuze walked up to him, wearing only the swimsuit, and avoiding the water – he didn’t want to soak his hair – he grappled the base of the plug and twisted it slowly out. At the tip, some shit had gotten on it during the night—he pushed it teasingly towards Cecir. “Look, you soiled it!”

“You know it gets like that when you have it in for so long! It’s not my fault! How many times haven’t you made it like that?”

“I’m kidding.” Yuze giggled and held it in the way of the shower’s water jets and washed it off, then took it and walked out of the bathroom. He put the plug back in the bag, took out some make-up equipment and his hair iron, and set about performing his morning ritual.

After straightening his hair, he put it up in two bunches—as before, with the fringe arranged obliquely, and then applied make-up, pale foundation, and so on; this time opting for a more natural dark red lipstick. Cecir was drying his hair as he finished up, and he decided to go on with dressing.

He put most of the things back into the sports bag and dug out what he intended to don. It was a long, soft fabric dress, snowy white with puffy short arms and a pair of matching gloves. It was a bit snug around the waist, but aside from that, it fit very well considering its origin in a used clothes shop. It was clean and nice, seemingly abandoned after a brief duty as a wedding dress for someone—he’d show it the love it deserved, not a pointless side-lining! He hurried into the stockings and boots, so that he’d finish before Cecir came out of the restroom, and managed just in time.

“You brought along extra clothes but forgot my tooth brush? Is that a wedding dress?”

“I forgot my own tooth brush—but yes, yes it is. Like it?”

He pulled at the skirt and let it sway.

“What of the swimsuit?”

Yuze pulled the skirt up to show the bulge underneath, still covered by the swimsuit. “Still here, underneath it all. Now people will think we’re a newly married couple on honeymoon. That’s cute.”

“I like it,” Cecir said and laughed a bit, then put some of his own things back down in the bag, including his hair brush. “This sports bag though,” he continued, “it seems very much not like something you’d be carrying around. Isn’t this some football team, these markings?”

“Yeah. You’re right, it’s not quite me. It used to be Kazuki’s. He played in the football team when he was in high school—think that’s when he got this. It just happened to end up with me. It’s spacious—you better carry it when we leave. It does not befit the wife to carry such a thing.”

“Oh, I’ll take it.”

There were some sweaty spots on the top of the duvet after last night’s escapades—but surely such things were common in hotels, and far worse stains, surely. The last things were stuffed into the bag, and they were ready to depart after donning their jackets. It was just past nine in the morning when they checked out and left. The temperature had risen, and the snow was melting in spots and turning mushy, and the skies were filled with milky haze. The traffic was light during this Saturday morning. On their way out of town they stopped at a convenience shop and picked up tooth brushes and paste—Cecir was somewhat anal about keeping to his schedule. Yuze drove, so Cecir brushed his teeth in the passenger seat.

They headed on back towards the motorway; joined it at Takizawa Junction, and drove north. Mountains shrouded in mists, snowy hillocks, light traffic. Tunnels bored through mountainsides, across viaducts over narrow valleys carved out by rivers down through aeons. A peculiar expectancy seemed to rest on top of it all; higher up, winds stirred the low lying cloud coverage. At Ashiro interchange, the motorway split; they kept right, and the motorway became the Hachinohe Expressway, which skirted in a cutting through the side of the valley it followed north-eastward through Iwate-ken. They stopped to use the restroom at Ninohe parking area, a simple rest-stop. There was a vending machine, and they each got a soft drink. A greasy lorry driver gazed strangely at them, and they were glad to be on their way quickly.

They stopped to eat at Oritsume services. By that time, they were quite hungry; but Yuze had wished to avoid needlessly time-consuming detours, and this was the first opportunity since leaving Morioka without leaving the motorway. It was four minutes to eleven by the time they left, and it rained then. The snow had melted away in this region as they drove on north towards Hachinohe.

They passed Hachinohe, where the motorway split. It continued as a two-lane affair on a single carriageway, cutting through the soft rolling hills of eastern Aomori prefecture; and then the toll section ended, though the road had opened further as a toll-free motorway; it came, too, to an end at National Road 394. Eventually they ended up in Noheji. They stopped at a commercial establishment there and had a coffee each and made use of the facilities, before continuing northward across Shimokita Peninsula via National Road 279; Cecir took the wheel. The first half was relatively flat with a few forested hills, and it continued to rain, and winds blew in from Mutsu Bay. The weather cleared when they reached Mutsu City, which they drove through the city centre of. Though car parks and empty lots yawned open in places, in the core it retained a nostalgic atmosphere of times past, with a relative density of old wooden houses still standing amidst modernity. Beyond the city, the road rose to a summit and then fell, lined with forests and occasional farms, until they penetrated to the coast. Vast waters—far away Hokkaido coast line, and the great pacific, winds throwing up restless waves. Rain mixed with quickly melting snow and salty winds—rocky shores, sometimes slopes covered in concrete to protect against the ceaseless power of nature gradually eroding everything away; sad, linear fishing villages which slowly dying and depopulating clinged to a desperate and sad existence along the narrow coastal band between the steeply rising cliffs crowned with thin, harassed forest patches and half-abandoned rice paddies soon to be devoured by landslides. Nature was in a constant battle to devour itself. Pedestrian crossings; a car park along the coast, to stop and watch the waves—but no, they continued, along the coast, another fishing village, whose pride was an eight story hotel facing the Pacific, surely not many rooms were occupied at the moment; overlooking a fishing harbour protected by a breakwater and a lonely car park-surrounded city office; thereafter, a post office. Along the coast, further on, two villages later, they reached the end of the road, in Ōma. From here the ferry to Hakodate ran. The time was past 14:21, and the city seemed to have been emptied of its residents as they all kept inside to escape the torturous weather; near the southern border, a vast construction site of a planned nuclear power station—they drove to the ferry waiting terminal, where on a wide pier into the ocean was a series of car parks—they stopped there. There were a few other vehicles waiting, too, but not many. From there it was a brief walk across the wind-harassed asphalt flats to a small box-shaped building which housed a waiting room and ticket office. There was low demand, and no problem getting space on the next trip—though it would be two hours till then, as the ferry only made four trips daily to Hakodate.

They walked in to town to waste time. Though still windy, the rain had stopped. The fishery presence was notable; restaurants were mostly oriented towards that; along the high street were even fish processors, small refrigerated vans waiting at loading docks, and scattered shops, a handful of bars (closed at the time, naturally, except one that seemed to be a watering hole for locals—outside of which hovered a short, stout drunken man). They still had some money with them, so ventured into a small convenience store (TAKAHASHI it said above the entrance), wherein they procured some salty dried fish snacks, which they ate on a leisurely walk around that part of the city.

In a small park of pleasantly trimmed shrubs and black pines where even the unpleasant weather seemed somehow kept at bay behind a well-kept shrine with iron-railed steps lined with ornamental pillars they found a sad looking public restroom, the door ajar and swaying in the westerly wind; the sporadic slamming of the door seemed then to the bored and slightly horny Yuze like an invite for a brief intermission of fun.

“Let’s go in there,” Yuze said and pointed at the door with a finger tipped by a long black-varnished nail, “and have sex, and leave the door open, and hope someone sees us.”

“I didn’t know you had an exhibitionist streak,” Cecir stated plainly, “and that place looks dirty.”

“Oh, shush. That’s part of the excitement.” Yuze grabbed Cecir’s hand and pulled him along; Cecir dropped the sports bag outside the door—would anyone steal it here? No, unthinkable! The facility was little more than two toilet stalls and a washbasin with a cracked mirror someone had put back together with glue. Some ventilation fan whirred obnoxiously and it reeked of stale urine.

“Great, great, this dirty kitsch is just great—just the place for casual sex.” Yuze pulled his skirt up to be sure it didn’t get on the dirty floor, then opened one of the stall doors. The seat itself was clean enough, though there seemed to be a thick layer of accumulated grease on the ceiling and walls—Yuze kneeled down on the seat and pulled the rear of his skirt up over his back, to expose his bottom. “Spit on your cock and push it up here,” he said and pulled the swimsuit’s crotch slightly aside to reveal the anus, “like we’re strangers just out for a bit of fun!”

“Cheating on your husband so soon!” Cecir exclaimed and promptly pulled down the zipper on his trousers and dug out his ready and erect plunger, anticipating any plumping problem.

“My husband won’t put out for me—he insists we only have sex once a week, and my cravings are far too great,” Yuze jested.

“Then I shall quench your flame with this magickal staff.”

“Oh, do go ahead, fine Sir!”

Cecir pressed his saliva-slippery cockhead up against Yuze’s anal mouth, which with little effort was greedily satisfied with what it most craved; the cock slipped in.

“Ah, it’s much bigger than my husband’s! His withered thing can barely manage a single squirt of semen, and it usually comes upon entry!”

“What a lousy husband! How dare he even think of himself as a _man_?”

“I dare say! He is no good at all! Now fuck me good!”

Cecir began to thrust deep and hard, first slow, then picking up pace. He put his hands on Yuze’s hips and squeezed, and let his balls slap hard against Yuze’s perineum. It tickled pleasantly.

Cecir loosened one hand, and reached it forward towards Yuze’s face.

“Suck a finger!”

Yuze moaned, opened his mouth, and took a finger on his tongue, licking it as though it was another cock. “Even your fingers are bigger than my husband’s dick!”

Cecir laughed, but kept the fucking uninterrupted. “I’ll fill you with sperm! You’ll be pregnant!”

“Impregnate me!”

Cecir slipped another finger into Yuze’s mouth, and then pushed a few final, sweaty thrusts into Yuze’s behind before he convulsed and ejaculated voluminously.

“Probably, you will give birth to quintuplets,” he said, while he pulled his cock out.

“You truly are virile,” Yuze feigned while he pulled off a sheet of toilet paper and wiped some sperm and sweat off his arse before standing up and correcting the swimsuit bottom to cover up. “I think we should head on back to the car, right?”

Cecir nodded. Yuze threw the paper in a rubbish bin at the door; they picked up the sports bag and went on their way back.

By the time they reached the car, the ferry had arrived, and a line of cars were waiting to board, though the process had yet not started.

They’d be in Hakodate by six in the evening. The wind had died down a little, and some people were seen walking around on the streets; though it felt as if the temperature had fallen, the visibility had improved and the cloud coverage began to crack like melting polar ice sheets; the sun even peeked through just as they were to drive onto the ferry’s vehicle deck, and all the muted wintry colours were suddenly aglow for a brief second.

 

*

They ate aboard the ferry across the Tsugaru Strait, in a mostly empty dining hall; some exquisite tuna-based meals were on offer, though they were of quite a pricy nature, regrettably. With that, and the cost of refuelling in Hakodate prior to departing in the end-of-the-world glow of late afternoon, they were almost out of cash by the time they left the city and drove north—Yuze was at the wheel again. They left Hakodate some twenty minutes past six. Cecir slept as the night fell over the Hokkaido Motorway, single-carriageway for most of its extent and barely any traffic before Muroran. Halfway through the trip in the night, they stopped at a parking area for bathroom duties (no sex), whereafter Cecir took the wheel and Yuze napped in the passenger seat.

It was just past ten when they came to the outskirts of the Sapporo urban area. It glowed luminously on the horizon. It was slightly colder now—the temperature gauge in the car shewed minus five, and from high-hung clouds a fine, soft snow began to fall.

Cecir roused Yuze from dreamless sleep as they drove towards the city centre, where the buildings gradually rose taller; near a riverside, a balcony-lined condominium tower block scraped the heavens, glowing with light which lit the falling snow.

“Sapporo?” he asked.

Cecir nodded. The city dreamed under snow-flake invasion; the casual party-goers and drinkers were soon to depart and give way to the nocturnal predators and their prey, to be chased down nameless alleyways in forgotten shadows, doors without labels would open and subdued throbbing music would play distantly and invitingly, like the beating of sinister orgy-drums of imagined cannibal tribes in far-flung jungles. Shops that closed before the light of dawn would open their doors to the purveyors of the night, and the things that children dread would all take place; inside buildings whose interiors were barren warehouse spaces the moans of the harshly fucked would echo, the screams of orgasmic anguish would reverberate through anonymous bondage-cellars—

They drove into the car park of an unremarkable ten-storey hotel whose small windows glowed romantic red into the dark, stopped there and got out, entered; the last of their money, a room for the night; they went to it, left their bag; it was a decent accommodation, though sparse.

”We still need to get you some decent clothes,” Yuze said with an expectant smile as they stepped on out.

“You’re forgetting, the cash is spent!”

“Well, obviously we’ll have to make some more money.”

Cecir looked thoughtful, then appeared to have an epiphany or sudden resurgence of a lapsed memory, dug up like iron ore from some hard-to-reach pit deep inside his mind. “I just saw something when we parked, that would be perfect.”

“Pole dancing?”

Cecir laughed. “You’d have to get hired for that, surely, they wouldn’t pay generously for an hour or two of show, no matter how well you move in those heels—no, something else...” He walked ahead of Yuze at brisk pace, who hurried to keep up with him.

They came out into the night; a flat-bed truck drove by with a plough, clearing some snow off the street, though it was not yet very deep. Cecir lead Yuze down an alley, going back in the direction from which they had arrived. They met some nameless prowlers going both ways, men with vacuous, wired eyes, probably high on something or other when not drunk, most from their bulges boasting erections, some smiling, looking for a hole which could drink their orgone.

“Where are we going?” Yuze finally asked.

“Just around this corner. I saw this sign, when we drove up to the hotel.”

So they rounded the corner. Across the narrow road lay an older ryokan, and next to it a taller building with a bland beige tiled façade and small, industrial-looking windows. Red lamps glowed at the entrance to something that looked like a shop, with a glass double door. The windows on the first floor were covered by thick, black hangings, so that one could not see inside.

“Here,” Cecir stopped before the entrance. “As I said, I saw this sign. I’ll go in and see just how it works. Wait here, okay?”

Yuze nodded, and Cecir smiled and went inside. Yuze leaned back against the wall. Some men came, and a few also left, furtively pacing through the shallow snow that had accumulated on the ground, many with their faces hidden under needless scarves or hoodies. The light-shy—many walked with their backs bent over with shame, even though there was presently not much of a wind whatsoever.

The door swung open, and Cecir beckoned him inside with a jocular move of his arm, as if Yuze was of royal breed and he was a chauffeur; he noticed then that written on paper plastered on the inside of the window were opening hours. It was, as he would have surely guessed if he had not been so absent-minded where he had waited, a brothel.

“Are you intending to sell me?”

Cecir smirked. “Just your body. As my wife, you are my property, so I can do what I want. You always said I cannot satisfy you enough—well, this definitely will!” He paused for a wry laugh, before he continued. ”I spoke with the proprietor or manager of this establishment, and they said it was fine. And if I’m fired for delinquency at my job—who cares? This pays a lot better for a lot less labour input.” He smiled, though it was obvious he had a slight concern that perhaps Yuze would not take kindly to the insinuation that he whore himself.

Yuze pushed Cecir up against the wall rather harshly, and it was a quizzical expression that fluttered like dying flames in Cecir’s eyes before, as Yuze’s face came close enough to his—Yuze’s tongue flicked out, slipping wetly against Cecir’s lips until they opened and their mouths lined up for a deep kiss, which lasted a universe before it perished and their lips parted. “I don’t know why, but all that you said and did, it turns me on so much, I can’t comprehend why, but it does.” He blushed, and Cecir looked as if he had something to say, but Yuze wouldn’t let him before having another saliva exchange, which followed thereupon.

When finally the world was as it had been before, Cecir could talk.

“Three days, they said, we had. I’m sure you can make a lot of money in that time.”

“You little parasitic panderer,” Yuze quipped.

Cecir smirked, and led the way to one of a number of doors. Each had a number. This was eleven. There were moans and whines of sex heard throughout the narrow corridor. The room yawned open; a lamp on a small but high bedside table lit the place up, a soft, warm colour as of a flame adjacent to a box of condoms, and next to it was a small single-wide bed with a thin mattress overlaid with black plastic sheets—no doubt to make easy the cleaning of spilled fluids—and next to the door nestled in a small niche was a plain closet. Yuze went over to the closet and opened the door to examine its content, but found there was not much but plain anonymous cardboard boxes containing who knew what, as well as, on the top shelf, some items of clothing. Most were uninteresting, though Yuze found to his liking a pair of black latex gloves, which he put down on the bed.

Cecir pulled aside the curtain that covered the door—presumably there were no doors with locks for some semblance of security.

“I’ll of course make sure that anyone who does things with you uses protection,” he said, “I don’t want my property contracting some repugnant illnesses!”

“Spoken like a caring landlord,” Yuze replied sarcastically. “Is this some mixed establishment or are there only males here?”

“As far as I can tell it is quite the sausage fest.” Another one of those playful smirks. “Just the way you like it. Now, take off your clothes.”

“All?”

“All. You can put the boots back on without the stockings. Will get warm otherwise, you know. Then the gloves. So it’s just the boots and gloves. I like that, as you know. Exposed, naked yet with some skin still covered...” Yuze began to take off the wedding dress and handed it to Cecir, who stuffed it into the closet. He excused himself then and hurried out of the room while Yuze was stepping out of the swimsuit which he went on to place in the closet next to the dress.

He had finished taking off the stockings and putting back on the boots when Cecir returned, waving a compact little polaroid-camera of recent make around proudly. “We’ll use this to take a few pictures of you like that,” he said, “they’ll probably be happy to see a bit of dick, given the nature of the place... there’s some ikemen here, and two down someone who, from the pictures anyway, looks like they were or are a bandoman, or some kind of wannabe anyway, purple hair like that... There’s a few others for those of different taste, but we’ll probably do fine here if these have established clientèle. Now, pose for me, will you?”

Yuze pouted, though he did in fact not really mind at all. It somehow made him excited to see Cecir take pictures of him. He sat down on the bed for one, stroking his erection with his legs spread apart—another, on his knees to brandish his bottom; for a few others he stood up and gave cautious yet polite smiles as he thought suitable.

“Great,” he said approvingly when he was done. He went off with the camera, returned without it—Yuze saw him outside of the curtain at the door like a shadowy silhouette, putting up the pictures with a little transparent tape, before he came back inside. “There,” he said and exhaled with exaggeration, as if as a panderer his labour was great, “all done. Are you ready? You look ready. I’d come and fuck you if that wouldn’t cost me money to have you tied up in unproductive labour.”

“I suppose.”

“I handle the money matters, of course. I am like a banker. A perfunctory organ that solicits pointlessly and gambles with someone else’s things,” he smirked, “you just worry about pleasing the customers.”

Yuze nodded, brushed some hair out of his face (it had gotten into his mouth), while Cecir flashed a smile and walked on out.

Yuze played with his balls aimlessly to keep himself amused. He thought it may perhaps be inappropriate if he was to rub one out now—in the event that some _customer_ might want to fellate him.

He wasn’t sure how long it took, but he expected it would take longer. The man who came in was of medium height, quite fat. Though the hairline on his pork-like head was receding, hair elsewhere seemed not affected as he took off his white office-shirt, for there grew in plenitude a vast forest of black hairs. As he pulled down his black trousers and the underwear, he revealed a huge well-proportioned organ which, after he laid the clothes he had taken off on a small chair that stood up against the rear of the bed, swayed with each step he took towards Yuze.

It was thick and long, larger by quite a margin than Cecir’s; it’s skin was darker than the rest of him. He looked down at Yuze and leered. It was, however, a very nice penis, there was no doubt about it; its head protruded but little from the rest of the meaty shaft, giving it a tasty torpedo-like build, not like the mushroom shapes many were stuck with. The glans was a lighter colour, soft fleshy with a hint of purple, but no reddish irritation. The man stood before him as he sat on the bed.

“Do you like it?” he asked, “it’s my pride and joy.” He giggled, but was probably serious in jest.

“It’s big,” Yuze said, blushing from porn-grade dialogue, “but I like, it’s cute, pretty.” He leaned in closer—it smelled nice, too. It was true that it had a faint smell of sweat, but that was overpowered by a more pleasant odour that made him think of salty food. He wasn’t sure what it was—there was no smegma on it that he could see, though he was not one to object to such, and thought it tasted quite good in fact, though Cecir seemed rarely to be able to produce any. Perhaps they had sex just too often, and Yuze always cleaned it too thoroughly with his tongue after it spent. He put his tongue against the warm glans of the man, who reached out a hand and pulled on his hair-bunches, tugging at them gently, gripping them like handlebars—it tasted good, too. It made his mouth water, and he started to suck it. The man leaned his head back (Yuze more felt than saw it, preoccupied as he was) and moaned.

The man pulled back after a while, gritted his teeth with excitement, lips that reminded of earth-worms... he picked up a condom from the box next to the bed, inspected the package, seemed to find it satisfactory or familiar and, openening it, crowned his cock with a rubber tip. Yuze took his chance to pull it back on that generous, fat length which seemed like a pregnant fish, _pregnant with sperm_ his mind added. When he had pulled the red-coloured condom back on the prick, he spat on and rubbed it some more, before he stood up and turned his rear to the man and bent over, putting his hands against the plastic sheet on the bed.

Yuze felt the soft rubber-coated prick push against his bottom. He reached a hand around and parted his cheeks as best he could, for the man to aim better—he pushed, slow but certain, his thick, warm sausage inside Yuze’s rectum. He felt it distend around it, the sphincter squeezing it like soft kissing lips, felt his cock slowly lose stiffness and instead drivel transparent pre-come in small amounts down on the floor between his booted feet.

“Nnnhngh—”, a meaningless inarticulate whine escaped from Yuze’s body involuntarily as the penis buried itself within his arse-cunt, and the man said something he didn’t pick up in the present state of mind, though the word ‘taut’ he was sure was there. His body felt warm, his legs weak; on an unexpected deep thrust, his heart skipped a beat and more weird noises escaped his lungs that recalled nature shows or a bloody murder—he saw something in the corner of his gaze, by the curtain at the door, someone looking in—Cecir, no doubt—with a great big grin of uncanny triumph.

The man fucking him had a remarkable energy to keep things up in spite of his corpulence and impression of low energy, and by the end of it, Yuze was sweaty and exhausted. The man seemed pleased with Yuze’s services as he dressed and made to leave, exchanging a few words with Cecir as he went through the door frame. Yuze lay down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling and tried to gather his presence of mind and calm himself. Cecir came in with some paper towels and wiped Yuze’s bum clean, took care of the spent condom and threw it in a bin. Yuze had his arm over his forehead where he lay; Cecir looked down on him.

“He fucked you the way I never could!” he jested.

Anon, there was a knock over by the door. Another customer awaited entry.

The night was young.


	5. Chapter 5

When the morning light was imminent, the place would close. Yuze, exhausted from the acts of night, would be walked back to the hotel by Cecir. They’d sleep together—and as they woke up in the trepidation of twilight, Cecir would fellate Yuze slowly and kindly to invigorate. By Tuesday—Cecir had called in ‘sick’ to his work on Monday, but they were notoriously unkind to those who did not come in, regardless of cause, so he considered himself de-facto sacked. However, the activity had brought in a lot of money; serving six to ten men a night who paid hefty sums each, they had a quite sizable tax-free income. The men were probably glad they did not have to pay the constantly rising consumption tax on sex services, which the government constantly hiked to make up for its own failure to stimulate the stagnating economy, making cuts here and there but always clinging to ridiculous new road construction programmes whose budgets swelled like attendants at an eating competition.

A surprising number of the customers were regulars. While quite a few were generic salarymen whose anonymous and indifferent faces one would forget in an instant, there was an unexpected turnout of pretty-faced youths who with some exploratory urge like an expedition into uncharted wilderness sought out that establishment and its services; some looked even like bandmen; one had spoken about such activities to Yuze when he lingered in after-sex haze as if eager for socialisation, though it seemed his friends with whom he wished to start a band were not equally keen on the idea.

Not that Yuze much minded the anonymous salarymen, or even those with too much hair on their unsightly bodies. Even if he preferred his men clean-shaven, thin and pretty—like Cecir—he had fairly low standards sexually, he had come to realise. Sometimes the unkempt bodies were even arousing in a weird way.

Blessed with money, on Tuesday evening, after sleeping, they went out shopping prior to their departure from Sapporo; Yuze had his wedding dress back on with the swim suit under; his bottom was sore. They had not forgotten the mission—at least, Yuze had not. He wasn’t too sure about Cecir, but then again, Cecir was just dragged along in the first place. But he had read the book, and Yuze was glad he had at least pretended he was interested—even if he’d prefer it more if he genuinely cared.

In a dark alleyway lined with anonymous buildings not far from where the brothel and the hotel were, they entered a sex shop that Cecir pointed out. It had large glassed windows which frankly displayed things of the sort that would make the prude uneasy, the sort of items that would be blotted out by annoying mosaics if they entered a body orifice in a video; and of course a generous assortment of other items of importance; cuffs, chains, leashes, collars, and—much to Yuze’s interest, a vast collection of sexy clothes, many latex and other fetish items, things that he had always wanted but never been in financial standing to afford. It was thus with smiles and giggles they entered the shop holding hands as if they were school children, almost dizzy with excitement.

So at the hangers they browsed the pleasant outfits, and Yuze picked out an outfit for Cecir. Since the weather was cold, he’d need to wear his jacket over it anyway, so he settled for a latex dress, black with white trim on skirt and ruffles, with long airy sleeves and integrated garters and legwarmers, as well as a pair of knee-high boots for him to wear with it—no expense spared, such as the chronically poor are wont to behave when for once their coffers have content to reckon with. Cecir seemed to like the outfit too, which was well; and while Cecir went on to gather some other supplies for maintaining the lustre of the clothing, Yuze browsed for his own requirements.

It took a while, but he eventually found something that both was his size and excited his perverted sensibilities, so that he picked it up and went up to Cecir, who now browsed pornographic videos near to the cash-desk, though he seemed to find most on offer to be dreadfully boring things, and at any rate, the censorship mosaics made it hard to enjoy seeing phallic objects and organs slip in and out of well-oiled arses, something which ought not be hard to enjoy. So they paid for their items – oh, the money wasted! – and went on outside, stopping by a restaurant to dine as the day died, and the suspense that built up for the remainder of the trip made them feel queerly rejuvenated; and after leaving the restaurant, Yuze slipped into a shop selling cheap traditional clothes, where he found to his liking a purple silky kimono, which they purchased.

In the hotel room, they changed; a new travel suitcase had been procured too, wherein went their old clothes now, making room in the sports bag. Yuze aided Cecir’s dressing, taunting his prick incessantly but denying any consummation. Yuze undressed himself, and went to work donning his latest acquisition.

He put on the stockings first, while Cecir went into the bathroom—borrowing his make-up, so one could assume what for—and thereafter unzipped the outfit, and put his legs through the appropriate apertures, nestling his cock into the niche.

The latex outfit was vaguely reminiscent of the old swimsuit; that is, it had a bottom like one and, like it, a snug neckline, though it came with long sleeves that had no opening, and instead simply terminated in gloves. It was mostly black, though red accents went down the backs of the arms and circled the openings for his breasts, each centred around a nipple. On the front was a protrusion into which the cock fitted; he had to oil the inside to fit his erection in it, but it felt pleasant the way the sheath squeezed it. Around the back there was a round opening (again, accented red) for the anus, so that it could be accessed without needless undressing or awkward unzipping; he finished it off with a black, spiked hairband, and thereafter put on the kimono; when Cecir exited the bathroom, he asked him to tie the sash at the back right—it was an arduous task to do oneself.

Cecir had applied some red lipstick and touched up his face with a light foundation and so on, and it looked satisfying. Yuze took the equipment for himself, and touched up his hair some, as it had been slightly dishevelled by their earlier trip, where the wind had tugged at it, and when this was done he crowned himself again with the hairband.

At last they were ready to depart for the final long leg of the journey; five hours’ drive towards Wakkanai, far to the north, at the pinnacle of the island.

They went down to the lobby and checked out.

 

*

Through the night, under the stars. The moon, horned and pale, hung above the scene; ahead, the road, wet puddles from melting snow reflecting the lights of the cold northern skies. Above, the everything, a universe for ever; they approached the blackness of a valley where the slopes rose steeper and some peak obscured the moon; everything amplified.

“Yuze-chan always drives so fast,” Cecir said. “Like you’re in a hurry.”

“I can’t help it,” he replied, “it just happens. Some imp of the perverse, or just dread of something. Time fleeting, everything being eaten away, memories fading... I don’t know.”

“We’re always in way too much hurry. Not just you and I, I mean, everyone. Rushing hither and thither. It is hard though—we know our time is finite, even if we don’t want to accept it. And we don’t know quite what we want out of it. We want some things, that much we know, no doubt, but then we feel too much guilt to stop and think for a while on just where we are going. Pushed onward, we cannot quite enjoy anything; we’re like hyper children in an amusement park who rush from ride to ride, not even giving themselves time to let the experiences sink in.”

“Amusement park...” Yuze said dreamily and looked on out at the world. “Some months back, Kazuki took me to one. It was for my birthday. The weather, the light, it seemed like the end of the world.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

“What? No. I think he was trying to cheer me up—in a non-sexual way. I fancied you might be mad if I did.”

“He’s just a body. I know you’re mine.” Cecir smiled. “All the time.”

“Time.”

“Lapses. Overloaded sensory systems—things rushing ever faster. In that book which politically confused like to quote though they seem not to grasp its context whatever, Nineteen Eighty-Four, the sort-of-villain of the story, O’Brien, remarks that if the increasing pace of life and labour were to make people die at thirty it would make no difference—perhaps that is the way life is. Even if life-expectancy doesn’t necessarily drop, people are acting as if it is, because there’s such a pressure on us all to do things; to be idle is a devilish thing, and besides, when idle the thoughts come.”

“What we all dread. Contemplation!”

“Exactly; thus the desire to be in the train-disaster spectacle. Everyone’s an actor and the world is their estrade, to compete for attention... but I ramble. It’s all meaningless, and has been said before.”

“It’s cute, though,” Yuze said, and silence filled the car; the radio was off. It was just the whine of wheels against the asphalt, down the empty motorway, at one in the morning—soon, the birds would sing, though they would not hear them. “I think why I feel in such a hurry is just... the involuntary response to the exciting prospect. I can’t help it.” Nevertheless, he eased off the pedal slightly, and the speed slowed.

Off the motorway, rural highways, flattening terrain—farmhouses now and then pierced the night with their lights. The glow of a greenhouse. The headlights of a vehicle like eyes until it roared past, a lorry going south, wholesale vegetables. Rumoi, lights in the night, empty city—snow again. North along the coast, empty highway, National Road 232. Some village along the coast, with abandoned wooden buildings in sad, decrepit ruins, beginning to crumble, chewed upon by time and harassed by the salty breeze in from the sea. A sense of apocalypse upon the depopulating landscape where the young moved away as soon as they could, and only the destitute and old stayed put; where culture was fishing and sharing fables while the television shewed hints of a world where something else was possible.

North, still north. Another city they drove through; public housing blocks in neat rows appeared out of the night. Post office, a bridge across a small river; north of town there were plains soaked in farms framed by restless mountains. Quaint villages—Cecir took the wheel for the remaining half of the trip. You thought of the things you saw, of the things that were... even if the night hid the way the weather had made the blue paint peel and reveal rust on the old fishing wharves and the warehouses, they radiated still that feeling of resigned decay that filled him with a queer solemn melancholy, for this was the land of dead railway branches and rural tramways, where even the bus service between villages and towns were withdrawn for lack of passengers, where the future looked the grimmest, the forefront of some impending collapse. Demographic disasters loomed and in the political morass fertilised repulsive mushrooms whose opportunistic and wild idiocy pandered to the alienated and dread-filled folk. Forefront—perhaps it was just the arse-end, like the vast tail of some weird enormous monster, who merrily went on walking even when predators swarmed and devoured, piece by piece, the meat on that tail, and even when it was all gone, the creature seemed none the more aware of the loss.

Across plains, in the dark, faint lights of a city. The first thing to greet them was a strip of commercial clutter, billboards and warehouses mixed with scattered strip mall shop-rows facing the main road into town, tacky and garish they beamed their sickly light into the night, facing empty car parks. Construction machinery on one lot, next to it a warehouse, then a shop. The road widened out; electricity wires ran on unsightly poles along either side. Petrol station, then some residential buildings, the first to be seen.

Cecir broke the silence. “Do we stay at a hotel for the day, and go wherever it is we’re going later? Or do you want to go right away?”

“I suppose we can stay somewhere. We’ve already procrastinated a lot, so there’s no harm in having a bit more fun, right?”

“Mmm.”

“Hard to find our way to the site in the dark. I looked up the rough description, and managed to find an old survey map from 1930 that seemed to suggest what was in the book. Too dark to see anything now.”

So they drove towards the city centre. It lay at the feet of a badly eroded hill that made up the bulk of the peninsula. It had probably been impressive some time in nebulous historical past, but today it was flattened out to a sort of wide table-topped ridge, whose most exposed areas were wind-haunted to the point where only grass seemed to grow as on some Irish moor.

They stopped at the most respectable seeming hotel in town, near the city centre, in a somewhat imposing white block with panel-clad façade rising some five, six storeys next to a cheap-looking pachinko parlour, a street away from the main shopping avenue where signs in Russian assisted tourists from Sakhalin. The overdressed man in the reception, though polite, did give them weird gazes—well, Cecir anyway. Yuze’s shameful attire was hidden under the kimono. He handed them a key when they had paid, and they went up to the room, a large, somewhat expensive room on the fifth floor (made more affordable by the fact that it was low-season).

Though the corridor bathed in almost blinding light enhanced by the clinically white-painted walls, the room had a more subdued interior, with light pink walls, dark wooden floor, and warm lamps. It was the biggest room they had spent time in yet. They unpacked some essentials and ate some snacks they had procured at the previous stop half-way from Sapporo; Cecir switched the television set on. First channel seen was some re-run of a news broadcast; he promptly changed it, to where there was some cartoon; he flipped on till he got to some nature program; bored, lazy lions frolicking on some barren savannah surrounded by dried up grass, a male walking listlessly with swollen balls visible underneath its tail.

Yuze sat down next to Cecir on the edge of the bed.

“The call of the wild...” Yuze said dreamily as he leaned closer. “Want to fuck? We haven’t for a while...” He breathed on Cecir’s ear, then licked it.

“Ah—s-sure, any positions in mind?”

Yuze smiled thoughtfully, then slipped off the bed and landed with his arse on the floor, spun towards Cecir, and dug his head in underneath his skirt. In the shadows his dick was already swelling with blood. Yuze took it in his mouth, wrapped it with his tongue, felt it grow inside, enclosed by his lips; he liked that. When it was small and grubby he could take all of it, growing inside like a child or intestinal parasite... He used his tongue on it, let it out to chill in the air, then took it in again.

While he sucked, he reached up with his arm and rubbed Cecir’s latex-clad belly, smooth and soft, and heard a moan in response. He started sucking it more feverishly, almost desperately, and soon Cecir could not fight off the orgasm any longer. He came in Yuze’s mouth, thick, warm semen as had built up during the long sexless epoch.

Yuze swished it around in his mouth, mixing it with saliva as he got to his feet; Cecir leaned somewhat back from the edge; Yuze leaned forward until their mouths met and they kissed. The mixture of spendings and saliva moved back and forth, and when they parted, each kept some to swallow. Yuze smiled at him as he moved away.

“Just have to fetch something,” said he as he walked to the sports bag which had been pushed off the bed, unzipped the opening to a pouch on the side of it, and withdrew therefrom a small plastic bottle of lubrication gel sporting an oddly insertable nozzle. He returned to Cecir, put the little bottle down and fell once again to his knees.

“Put your legs up,” he demanded; Cecir did so with some struggling on the soft bed, then used his arm to hold them up, to expose his arse to Yuze.

He sniffed it. It smelled salty of sweat and arse, a little rift like a volcanic vent spewing sulphur; he leaned closer and brought his tongue to it and the small, recently grown hairs (he remembered shaving Cecir’s arse a couple of weeks ago himself) and lapped at it, then tried to push his tongue inside. It took some effort that made his tongue sore, but eventually it slipped in. The only discernible taste was the salt of sweat; the anal mucus which naturally occurs tastes nothing at all. He wetted the arsehole prodigiously, until he was satisfied with its moistness and pulled back. Then he reached for the lube bottle and pushed the nozzle-end in, and squeezed.

A little gleaming transparent speck was all that was visible of the injected gel when he pulled it out; he squeezed out some more and rubbed it over the cock-sheath portion of his latex outfit. Cecir looked silly where he held his legs back; Yuze stood up to get into alignment for the penetration. “It will feel a bit bigger than usual,” he said. Then he squeezed the head against the hole, wet and slippery. It began to bore in.

“It feels cold—ah!” Cecir whined.

Yuze squeezed it all the way in; then pushed himself against Cecir, pulled his legs apart so that they went behind his back. His face aligned with Cecir’s roughly, and he licked his mouth; dishevelled black hair covered half his face cutely where he lay. Some strand of hair entered Yuze’s mouth, but he didn’t care, and began to drive his lance in and out of the soft anus, enjoying the pleasant sloshing sounds.

The world lapsing one fuck at a time.

Yuze reached for Cecir’s flopping soft cock, half-deflated after spending and penetration, and frigged it casually to the rhythm of the plunges.

Then he pulled out, though he had not spent.

He crawled onto the bed, lying on his back next to Cecir. “Get on my cock and ride me.”

Cecir smiled at him, and rolled over, straddling Yuze’s waist and grasping behind himself for the shiny black-sheathed cock, aiming it so it slipped into his arse when he inched back. Cecir reached for Yuze’s exposed nipples and began to tickle them while riding him; soon, Yuze came inside the sheath of the suit and felt the warm spending slowly slide down, drivelling over his sack—Cecir climbed off him, readily seeing that Yuze had orgasmed from the expression on his face.

“I’m going to keep it this way,” Yuze said and stroked his spent covered dick, “until it cultivates a good amount of smegma... you’ll eat it... ah...” Yuze and Cecir usually had sex too often for there to form any noticeable accumulation of the filthy delicacy.

Cecir leaned close, and they kissed and held hands.

“I could do with a nap,” Cecir said. “And then it’ll be day. Are you tired?”

“Not particularly, but it’s worth trying.”

Cecir nodded and then fiddled with his mobile phone to set the alarm for five hours, then he took off his shoes and crawled under the covers. Yuze slept on top—he wasn’t sure why, not like the covers were particularly thick, but some excitement was building up here, towards the end of the trip, when it soon would be revealed if it was all nonsense or if the cryptic pages spake true.

 

*

They were driving east along unpaved rural farm access roads. The surroundings were snowy grasses, where only in depressions grew things taller than sad shrubbery. Yuze had the map in his lap and tried to correlate features they saw with those on the survey. Eventually, there came a sudden, almost unnoticeable turnoff. Cecir drove past it, and Yuze had to tell him to stop and reverse; and there, between two shrubs that shook spasmodically in the wind, was an even smaller driveway, barely more than a glorified foot path as one might find in a forest. They drove up it some distance, toward a ruined farmhouse long abandoned. They parked outside it, for the path went no further, and the rest of the way had to be travelled on foot.

The roof had caved in long ago, and was but a pile of shingles and wooden supports. No one had come to clear the site, it must have lain there for many a summer. The wood was grey and rotting, and to the side of the building stood an ancient tractor, colour peeling, probably older than Yuze’s and Cecir’s ages combined. Grass grew up along the wind-shielded sides of the house taller than elsewhere, and swept its brown wintry tendrils around the engine compartment of the tractor. Some farm machinery, a field plough’s claws perhaps, rose sinister and rusty from the snowy ground like the ribs of a long decomposed animal.

They left their things in the car.

“It shouldn’t be too long,” Yuze said. “No point in carrying a lot of heavy things with us.”

A small trail led off from the farm, in the direction of a patch of pines that grew in a small depression that opened up like a V. Some of the region was rich in recreational hiking paths and such things, but this specific part was devoid of impressive features, the sort of area you’d never dedicate much attention to. The sort of place eyes would look upon for a few seconds before moving on to something more notable; they diverged from the path, across pine needle-covered ground free of snow. Dark basalt rock protruded from cliffs on the far eastern end of the V-shaped depression, hidden behind the low but green and prodigiously wide pines.

They stopped before it. Yuze shuddered—it was cold. He had not bothered to put his kimono on as they left the car, though he had on his jacket. At least the depression and the trees shielded them from the wind. “This must be the place,” he said.

From one end to the other the cliff-face was about twenty metres long and three or four metres high. At the top grew shrubbery lesser in height but which was roughly in line with the crowns of the pines, which shielded the area from view. The rocks toward the left side seemed ragged, as if they had been cut by artificial means (there were even a few marks of pick axes one could make out), whereas the right side boasted smoothly eroded edges. Cecir offered to start on the right, and Yuze on the left, and moved slowly towards the centre.

Yuze found the opening somewhat close to the centre. He called Cecir then to come and look; for though it was hard to see from a distance, hidden behind an outcropping which forced a sort of side-ways entry, there was indeed a small opening, roughly a metre and a half in height and at best a metre wide. Yuze squeezed through though he could not stand up straight, and the passage widened within. The black basalt inside was full of rust-red striations; and the cutting was exceedingly regular beyond the opening; in fact, it formed what seemed to be an almost perfect square two by two metres in size with a slight incline of around ten per mille. The walls seemed oddly polished, though the surface had in places cracked and fragments dislodged now lay dispersed along the edges of the _corridor._ Yes, a corridor it was, nothing less; its regularity such that no doubt could be on it, and when Yuze noticed ahead in the light of his electric torch the presence of a flight of stairs that much was clear.

Cecir came in behind him, fumbling with his own torch, which seemed at first not to work. Then he hit it, and it lit up the cave.

“What is this place? Some kind of abandoned mine?”

“I cannot believe a mine would ever be carved out with this regularity. This seems like something that was used for something other than sheer economic purposes of coal extraction.”

“The native population had earthen fortifications like palisades for a long time.”

“This is probably older. Do you dare go in further?”

Cecir hesitated. “What if it collapses?”

“Just try to be quiet and careful. Let’s go.” Yuze did not wait for a reply, but pressed on. Cecir seemed reluctant, but eventually followed; if they died here, then they died together. They went down the steps; the descent seemed uncannily even and the tunnel kept to its well-shaped regularity. Some weird patterns had been chiselled into the rock in places, but they were not images one could understand. They were webs of pigment lain under some manner of polish that seemed to reflect the light of the torches more than the surrounding rock.

The stairs ended in a pile of rocky rubble, whereafter the corridor levelled out, though it still continued. Yuze paused at the bottom and illuminated the rubble to help Cecir avoid tripping on it.

It was getting noticeably warmer. Yuze took his jacket off and held it wrapped around an arm. Not only was it warmer, he could feel a slight current of air. This suggested that either the system of caves was very extensive, or it went through to some other opening.

“Maybe we should have brought some snacks with us,” Cecir interjected when they rounded what seemed to be a soft corner that turned almost ninety degrees. Too eager to say anything—though Cecir was right—Yuze just pressed on until they came to a passageway where a shiny polished stone door interrupted their path. Cecir was ready to turn back and perhaps a bit hungry, for he sighed then as Yuze pushed himself against the door and had it open. The fact that it was unlocked surprised Yuze—and it had no indication of any kind of locking mechanism at all.

He held the door open for Cecir—it seemed to want to slip back into its default position when left alone. “Come on,” he said. “The wind’s picking up. We must be getting _somewhere_.” With a protesting pout Cecir did follow.

A wide room yawned before them, and they progressed. It yawned impossibly enormous above them; the torches could barely illuminate the ceiling, though soon there followed an archway in the wall and the corridor resumed, here with a vaulted ceiling. It seemed more well-kept, not ravaged by erosion and time; a set of stairs led upward, though it was far from as the descent—the crest was readily visible in the light-beams. It was an easy ascent, as each step was fairly low.

At the top, once again it went straight for about a hundred metres, before it suddenly changed nature again. The current had noticeably strengthened, and seemed to pull them on at brisker pace, and the polished nature had ceased. Instead it looked like it had been roughly cut out of the ground—it was similar, but not identical, to the way it had looked at the entrance; here, the cuts looked bigger, as if whatever axe had been used had been monstrous—a realisation that was made all the more puzzling when factoring in that _the tunnel itself was no larger, and could impossibly have provided sufficient space._ This violation of logic felt more disturbing than the presence of in this northern remote land a weird tunnel that would have been more at home in some unusually well preserved pyramids’ basement.

Then, ahead, light seeping in, red like a late afternoon.

And he felt something too, a change in the way the stone floor held against his shoes. It suddenly became uneven, unreliable—so he looked down.

A cover of fine, light-coloured sand trailed in through the apparent opening ahead, shifting subtly in the current.

They were through—and this wasn’t where they ought to have come out.

Not anyplace near it.

 _It looks just like the sand in an hour glass_ , Yuze thought; then he heard Cecir gasp behind him, and he saw _the dunes, the desert_.


	6. Chapter 6

There yawned ahead of them a sinister scenery. Sand was all around, and the light was dimmed; looking to the right, they could see on a hazy horizon a reddish sun half-obscured by jagged black cliffs. Straight ahead, sand dunes rose like the frozen waves of some ocean, or a beach that was looking for one. To the left yawned a limitless chasm, sloping slowly down to sinister darkness, and opposite the dark gulf, was more desert land, and some of it seemed to slip and fall down like sandy avalanches into the abominable crevice. Right ahead, a dark plateau rose from the endless sand, and up it went, carved through the rock, a winding road, zigzagging to conquer the steep cliffs. At its windswept crest a strange complex of buildings with black shimmering spires rose, clearly some manner of fortification.

“What is this?” Cecir exclaimed needlessly. Yuze said nothing, and probably Cecir did not expect an answer. What was this place? Clearly it wasn’t Hokkaido any more. Was it even earth? It didn’t look like it. The red sun glowed as if to remind of the hideous alienage of this place, the barren sands that shifted—there was nowhere to go but head in the direction of the great redoubt that towered on the plateau right ahead. Yuze began to walk; the sand was a bother with how uneven it was, though it seemed to form a surface more solid than expected from a visual inspection. Despite his shoes, he did not slip, though twice he had to stop and help Cecir after he tripped.

Cecir must have felt reluctant about it all. Clearly this was something very, very weird and disturbing, something that ought not to be. Violation of natural laws, logic and all sanity. Somehow Yuze was much more able to accept it—he wasn’t sure why. It was the sort of mad thing one ought reasonably consider as a dream, or an insane hallucination—but why fight it, then? Soon out of the sand protruded eroded rocky fragments, and they kept on toward the structures. The total distance was perhaps a kilometre to the base of the rising path up the cliff-side, and they were both sweating by the time they came to a space like a town square at the bottom of the cliff, where sand had been swept away by some means to reveal underneath a flat surface laid with oblong neatly cut basalt blocks. There was a sign with an arrow pointing up, but the “text” was in some incomprehensible pictograms.

An old crumbling wooden cart stood up against the cliff-wall, though there was nothing in or around it to give any hint as to what it once carried.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Cecir asked, once more keen to return, weary of the risks of the unknown, the weird, the inexplicable.

“No,” Yuze answered curtly, “of course not—I don’t know if this is safe. But I want to know. I want to see. This place, this time... what it is—who lives here? Lived, maybe. Come with me.” Yuze held out his hand, and though giving a defiant hesitation, Cecir eventually took it; Yuze squeezed his hand.

They walked up the zigzagging path. It was roughly three metres in width, and laid with the same sort of basalt blocks as the square at the base; for a railing a wall of roughly a metre’s height had been arranged with similar but larger blocks. The surface of the path was worn, as by traffic, though now it seemed barren and lonely in its apparent abandonment.

At the top of the cliff, the open space was full of rounded rocks of the sort that one might see formed in a river, but the water must have long ago dried up; some distance away, at the end of the path, was the fortification. It did recall ancient medieval castles; an exterior wall rose high over the irregular plain, and from inside the wall towered jagged spires that seemed to imitate the naturally occurring crags they had seen in the direction of the nightmarish red sun.

There was a steel gate for the opening, and it was raised. Rectangular openings on the taller structures that towered beyond it were obvious windows, but seemed to have no glass or fixtures. Inside the wall at the entrance was a wide dusty courtyard; the building complex, walls included, all seemed to be chiselled painstakingly out of solid bedrock, though all surfaces seemed very smooth and soft. But there were no borders between blocks, no joints—it seemed abnormal, unnatural. A few steps of veined black stone led up to a giant door, which stood invitingly half-open, and all around them was an imposing silence imbued with an eerie presence that was in some bizarre way enhanced by the absence of obvious habitation.

They ascended the steps. Even Yuze was afraid— _what was here?_ It seemed like it had at one time buzzed with activity, but that was no longer the case. It made Yuze think of some of the declining fishing villages they had passed on the road up north. Inside was a massive hallway with arched ceiling, and along the walls hung crimson silky hangings, and a fuzzy carpet decorated by pictures of scenic and beautiful though neutral vistas that seemed at once both familiar and alien. Perhaps it was the colour of the sky, the way the branches of the trees grew so fine-threaded and spindly, or the weird animals that were occasionally hinted at in the shadows of their stems, the earth-digging critter that made Yuze think of an ant-eater, and the jagged mountains that overlooked vast tropical oceans.

Straight ahead, another room came into view: a large hall, where the ceiling was higher than the hallway they had trod through, and the floor lower still; a railing, and on either side two flights of stony steps; down there, in the centre of the room, before a fireplace which was not in use, was a great long table, framed by chairs on which sat what appeared at first glance to be people—nebulously familiar people no less, though nameless in both their eyes, that much a brief exchange of glances shared. 

They looked like people. Men. Tropical bird colourations and dolled up faces; they looked like _bandmen_ , every one of those assembled. There were perhaps six of them, though there were more chairs still, one at the far end seemed particularly asking of an occupant. Across the table lay some enormous animal that looked like a gigantic crawfish’s bottom at least five metres in length, its red and pink flesh inviting and soft-looking. The people down there, whoever they were, looked hungrily at it, as if they were waiting eagerly for some permission to get on with a feast. Other things were on serving platters too, though they were far more difficult to describe due to their seemingly complicated nature and the fact that Yuze and Cecir saw it from some distance.

Noticing that some of the weird _people_ (if indeed they were even such, in this place) were looking at them, they walked down the stairs and to the table, scared and surprised and above all filled with bewilderment.

Quiet whispers were exchanged by the assembled. One of them leaned over a plate ready to take a piece of some kind of meat, but his hands were brushed off by the one sitting on his left. The language was alien, what of it they heard. Two of them at the end of the table pointed to two empty chairs there, and motioned with a hand gesture that they were to sit down.

They did so, reluctantly. If this was a dream, it was a very weird and very vivid one. Had he been drugged, sometime past? In Wakkanai, or before they even left Tokyo? They had those pills—some kind of quack concoction they were pandering off to gullible fools they assured would bring forth lucid dreams—was this one of those? His mind rendering like a graphics processor some subconscious wishes, dreams? As he approached the seat, he saw that, though half-hidden by a mighty yellow hair plume there were some kind of protrusions on the head of the alien bandman thing next to him. Like horns, he thought, like those of a gazelle, straight upward. The way the hair was wrapped around them like a climbing vine might cling to a stick had made it hard to see at first—as he sat down he looked closer on the others, and saw that they too had horns. Not all were the same, some grew in weird coiling spirals. Some were dark, others lighter; one, on the far end, had ones with regular purple bands.

They seemed to be waiting. Awkward silence followed, until it was broken by resolute steps in a different adjacent hallway, which filled all present with lofty respect and stillness.

What happened then was something that convinced Yuze for a while it had to be a dream. It could not be—for walking into the room, with an uncanny smile, dressed in something quite erotic and exquisite, yet for the context almost inappropriate, was none other than Yuka, his hair in white-blonde bunches crowned by twisting black horns, and those horns were the only thing unfamiliar. He seemed not to have aged since last he saw him—but Yuka—he smiled at Yuze with familiarity. Emotions surged in his chest, heart beating heavily—why was it Yuka? He remembered him as if it was yesterday they had last met, he remembered his cute effeminate laugh when they had shared a drink in Yuze’s flat at the time—but why was he here, now? Yuka... _Yuka was dead_.

Yuze remembered attending the funeral, remembered standing there like a fool, unable to control his emotions, falling to his knees and screaming, tears flowing—he remembered the night that the telephone had rung. Yuka had Yuze’s number written on a paper in his wallet, and the cops had called him, and asked him to come down to the hospital to identify a body—a hit and run in the afternoon rush, a warm spring; the cracks that yawned in the fabric of reality then were as severe as now—he felt a shortness of breath as he gazed upon that supernatural manifestation—wearing an outfit that had some similarities to his own, shiny latex, long flared sleeves, a high neckline, and an oblong cut revealing skin from between his nipples to below his navel in a sensuous manner; a short, plain and snug skirt, and a pair each of knee-high, zipped up chunky-heeled boots and black latex stockings, as if he had recollections of things Yuze had told him he liked, memories of their chats...

It could not be, that it was really Yuka; that was impossible. The horned Yuka took a seat at the far end of the table, on the chair that had looked so sad, as if it was a system of cogwheels where one was missing, and the gaze of those vivid brown eyes met Yuze’s, and he felt the recognition, the memories; no, it was no magic telepathy, at least not on Yuze’s part, but a feeling of shared thoughts—horned Yuka who must be a dream smiled then at him, the dark blue lipstick on the fine lips parting to reveal his teeth, a smile that could end the world or stir in the earth some enormous tremor, oh, he remembered that smile... Ten years ago almost was the last he had seen it...

He couldn’t help it then. He stood up, walked over to the thing which bore Yuka’s appearance, and looked close; his eyes teared, he struggled to believe what he saw.

Cecir was quiet in his perplexedness. He did not seem to judge, and was perhaps too confused to offer comfort.

Yuze fell to his knees, leaning onto the horned Yuka’s lap.

Much to his surprise, Yuze felt a few fingers trail through his hair, comforting him as might a loving mother.

“It’s okay,” the voice spoke, and it sounded just like Yuka.

Yuze looked up at him, and Yuka had wet eyes too. They shimmered in the desert light that filtered in through long narrow openings in the wall.

“I am sorry,” he said, “there are things you don’t know, things I couldn’t possibly explain or excuse fully. But know that I have missed you. You were the best thing about that place to me.”

Yuze cried, but Yuka’s arms that wrapped around him felt warm and reassuring.

“Yuka,” he said, “I thought you were dead, that you were gone for ever...”

“It’s okay. I know.” Fingers trailed across Yuze’s face, warm, tipped by long nails he thought ought to be sharp but felt inexplicably tender as they scraped against his cheek. The thing which seemed to suggest it was Yuka though Yuze knew it violated all logic and knowledge ( _but did this place not on its own? If it was just a dream, it was a wonderful dream he didn’t want to end_ ) stood upright and kicked back its chair and helped Yuze to his unsteady feet. The others assembled seemed to pay little attention, as if it was expected, awaited—Yuka helped Yuze to his seat and held him before he walked back to his own seat.

With a gesture of his arm, the others seemed to be permitted to eat by Yuka. Yuze had expected them to do so harshly and viciously, but it was quiet and respectful, as if it was high-dining of the most posh nature.

“Please, you take some food, too!” Yuka-thing said, looking at Cecir and Yuze, who were dumbfounded.

Cecir was first to snap out of it, reaching for a piece of that gigantic crawfish-thing, and adding some almost golden-colour sauce to the side and testing it, and soon adding more to his plate, until finally Yuze did the same. For a while they ate in silence; it was good.

“What is this place?” Cecir asked in between mouthfuls of food. “This bizarre desert, this banquet.”

“Would you believe me if I told you?”

“Try us.”

Yuka paused, picked up some light-red meat with his fork and put it in his mouth, chewed it slowly and contemplatively before he swallowed, buying time. “This is a planet far from earth. You noticed the red sun, no doubt. And the desert. There used to be a beach there, where the entrance to the passageway is, and a vast river flowed down—the chasm you saw was once part of a bay. It’s all gone now. The temperatures are rising, and the water is evaporating. This planet is doomed—we’re the last that remain. It’s been a long time coming, and many have left in vessels escaping into space to hunt for a new place to dwell. They’ll be out there for ever in boredom. We like to avoid boredom—so we stayed. We know of the passageway.”

“What are you, are you people?”

“No, not really.”

“The horns?”

“Some of us can change shapes. But we like pretty things. We always found human shapes fun.” Yuka gave them a blasé smile. “Obviously, with a bit of logic—the stereotype of “horned daemons” is our work and nothing else. We’ve been through passageways before, and even dwelt among men of many a lost age. This was once our home world, but it will soon be barren. And though we cannot die, we do not wish to just stay here as the planet withers and blows as dust into blackness and leaves us to drift aimlessly. We know of earth, and we want to go there. As you know, I’ve been—I was sent on an exploratory mission, which lasted a couple of years, and I’d have stayed longer if it wasn’t for those meddlesome fuckwits.”

“Can’t you just go through the passageway again?”

“It’s blocked. There are agents as have learned weaknesses of ours and use them against us. There is a barrier in the passageway—you would not notice it, as you are men, but we cannot pass through. It is like walking into a concrete wall. A border which we cannot breach.”

“And why this, now?” Yuze interrupted.

“I’ve planned it for a while. I’ve kept tabs on you.” He let that be cryptic, and Yuze did not ask further. “We might not need to eat, but we enjoy it. This is a festive occasion. And we want to ask something of you.”

“Of us?” Cecir asked.

“Yes.” Yuka stood up dramatically, and walked over to one of the openings in the wall and gazed out over sand-world. “Everything has something that can be construed as being opposite. We are one side, and there is another. They repulse each other like mismatched magnets. The sorcerers, a fine enough description, really, did not know about this passageway for a long time, but when they learned, they blocked it. There are two of them left that have not been corrupted, but as this passageway, and all others of which we know, are blocked, we cannot get through. We need you to do that. To help us. Will you?”

“What do we do?”

“Corrupt them.”

“Sounds simple.”

“Not the hardest feat. We corrupted most of them that existed—but we cannot do it now, for reasons mentioned. They banished me here—I didn’t want to leave. But, let’s talk more in my chambers after we’ve finished the meal.” He approached the chair, cocked his head and squinted his eyes, smiling earnestly as he sat down.

As the food was good there were no objections to the suggestion.

 

*

The room was large. There was a vast bed which seemed not made for anything as small as a man—or it was made for a copious lot of people. The bed sheets were red and silken, and on the walls hung strange oil paintings of various subjects. Some were gloomy landscape paintings, others depicted beautiful boys subjected to various unendurable tortures, dismemberment and decapitations; there was stark beauty in their agony. The bodily fluids gushing, the excretions, the flesh and viscera; it all looked very well-made and realistic, but there was also revealed a keen sense of tasteful aesthetics, an indescribable richness to the colours and a depth to the compositions which even the most pretentiously conservative and family-friendly art critic would’ve been unable to deny. The red sun had sunk further down, and the world outside was getting darker; candles glowed in an enormous chandelier in the centre of the room, and further fixtures were mounted along the wall.

Yuka crawled onto the edge of the bed, and lay down on his side.

“Come here, you,” he said, meaning Cecir. “Let me check you out.”

Cecir blushed, but sat down on the edge. Yuka crawled to him, and let his hands take in his shape, fondling the chest, caressing his cheeks. “He’s pretty cute,” he said, “I can see why you like him.” Then he reached down across the belly and towards the crotch, pulling up Cecir’s skirt, revealing his sex. Yuka looked thoughtfully at it. “Not particularly large,” he stated. “But I suppose it matters to whom it is attached, eh?”

He let Cecir go and rolled onto his back, dragging some of the red soft sheets over himself like a playful kitty. “How it works is quite simple. If you have sex with me, and you receive my sperm—it will _corrupt_ you. When I say corrupt, I mean it changes you; it’s not really for the worse. It will bestow you with powers like ours—you won’t grow older, you won’t ever die, but because you are not fully an entity like us, the sorcerers block on the passageway won’t affect you. You won’t really be able to shape-shift at will—but that’s something even we do not do often, because it takes an awful long time, and takes even longer to shift back to the previous shape.” He got on his knees and walked this way to Cecir—was close, and then reached for the cock he had uncovered and pulled at it from behind. “Good, right? Well, you’re hard at least!” He frigged it, and Cecir moaned a bit, but seemed not hesitant. Yuka let go, and lay down on his back. “Get on it!” he commanded. The bed shifted as Yuze got onto it too.

Yuze crawled up towards them. Cecir eased a leg over Yuka’s, then let Yuka’s hands guide him backwards a bit until he was above the cock which peeked out from the brushed aside bottom of the outfit; it was not much larger than Cecir’s, despite the quip regarding his size.

“Won’t it need to be lubricated?”

“Bah! Tosh!” Yuka said dismissively, “it’s self-lubricating!” It must be true, for something transparent was flowing slowly from the tip already. Yuze noticed it had a pleasant sweet smell as he moved towards them. Yuka lay on his back, and thereupon Yuze moved to his face and dipped his sheathed cock in his wet mouth. Yuka bit it softly and playfully and laughed a bit before he went to business wetting it appropriately while he fucked Cecir, or rather, Cecir impaled himself on Yuka’s cock.

After a while, Yuka seemed to want to change position, so slipped out and made Cecir get off; with Cecir on all fours, he positioned himself and began to fuck, in this way, Yuze could fuck him.

Yuze had not noticed it before, but it seemed that Yuka had a thin, scaly reddish coloured tail, which exited his outfit through a half-closed zipper which seemed to go further down far enough to allow easy anal access. Yuze moved in, pulled the zipper down, and revealed the cleft, warm and sweaty and inviting. His wrapped cock still wet, he promptly pushed it in, and Yuka’s hole gave way with pleasant quickness, almost sucking him in.

Cecir moaned lewdly; and now each thrust into Yuka’s rear reproduced itself into Cecir’s, and this way, like the pistons of a steam-engine, oiled and warm and puffing, they fucked; Yuze laid his hands on Yuka’s hips and pulled him back. Yuka made a noise, and Yuze leaned in against his back and squeezed him. He felt warm and vibrated with life—he could never have imagined such a thing to be possible, and he was still not convinced it was not just a bizarre vivid dream. But it was a nice dream, then so what—such beautiful dreams are rare and wonderful, and the moment must be seized; he licked Yuka’s ear, it felt warm— _even dream-phantoms are warm_ , he thought, then dismissed it. He put his teeth around the earlobe and bit it gently.

Yuka whimpered. It was a subdued but sexy little whimper, such as Yuze had always wanted to hear from him. Going on like this, it was not long before Yuze could not restrain himself any longer, and quite abruptly, and perhaps prematurely, ejaculated in his sheath and pulled out and fell backwards, staring at the ceiling and panting while he gathered his thoughts and breath. The ceiling was covered with a painting of a night sky, strewn with alien stars and four gibbous eerie moons, and along a corner an aurora danced in emerald glow.

Yuze straightened up, and Yuka must have spent, for he was pulling out of Cecir, still at full cock-stand but with spending dripping and a trail leading back to the orifice from whence that sword was drawn, yawning loose and with anal lips red and swollen after the rough piercing like the mouth of some elusive swamp-dwelling leech; Yuka turned to Yuze and gave him an affectionate glance, burning with some potent intent, and before he knew it, that still erect and slimy thing was there squirming up against his backside like a hungry snake, then Yuka drew it back and let it come in for another attack, aiming right this time, and slimy and slick it gained access via the anal aperture in Yuze’s suit with ease. Yuze turned his head, and was greeted by Cecir’s cock right before his face; he opened his mouth and took it in.

He sucked it and wetted it and let his teeth gently tease it; he felt Cecir’s hand around his head, comforting with its robust grip. As Yuka had suggested... it could do being bigger; it didn’t stretch his jaw, nor did it fill his bottom as it ought to—the arse should expand around it, oh, yes... He felt Yuka begin his plunges into his arse all the while, though even his thing was inadequate in terms of size. Then, as if Yuka had read his mind—

“Take that out of the fore-hole—we shall put both of pricks in at once in this slatternous cavern!” Yuze felt Yuka’s cock slip out. “Lie down there, and let Yuze face you and aim it in, then I’ll join alongside. One cock to a hole gets lonely fast.” A teasing smirk adorned his face as he watched with excitement and slow frigging the ordered arrangement; Yuze aiming Cecir’s penis into the slot and easing onto it, wet sounds as it slipped in quickly. Yuka had drivelled an awful lot in there already, so it was not difficult.

Yuze moaned as it went in, and he heard Yuka laugh behind him, and though the laugh was quiet, subdued, it seemed filled with unrestrained merriment, like the culmination of some long-lost struggle, some pent up desire that now gushed forth; then, Yuze felt it, pressing up against his wet cleft and against the bottom of Cecir’s shaft, pushing upwards; he felt it squeeze in his hole, expanding it, pushing Cecir’s cock down against the bottom; he must have drivelled in the sheath then, for the way it pushed Cecir’s cock inside him down—oh, it must have hit some particular sweet spot—and then Yuka’s triumphant moan and the sharp pain that radiated then—he knew he was in, a bank robber in a gold-stuffed vault. Yuka began to ease out when Cecir pushed in to get into the rhythm of the thrusts.

Fuck through fuck, then, Yuka laughed again and decided to push at the same time, and Yuze felt Cecir quiver underneath him, and felt his arse yawn further open to swallow the swollen penises as a snake might a prey larger than its own head—he fancied he might split in two. Thankfully he did not, and after a few thrusts, the pain subsided into a detached numbness and pleasurable tingling.

“I can come whenever I want,” Yuka stated, addressing Cecir no doubt, “so you just say something when it’s time!”

“Almost—just a little bit more, and—” He breathed heavily; Yuze saw the rivulets of sweat form and slide down his forehead. “And, and—going to come!” he exclaimed. Yuka stopped his thrusts suddenly, while Cecir made a few more stabs, before he stopped; Yuze saw his muscles tense up, then release. Yuka pulled his out, and Yuze saw with his mind’s eye how his hole must surely yawn open now, spent and loose and gaping, drooling sperm like a monster.

“Oh, you’ve ruined me... how will I be satisfied with a regular-size prick after that! I haven’t been wrecked that thoroughly since my first shag!” Yuze felt weird saying that, but it had to be said. His body still tingled and felt weak after that unprecedented ravaging fuck, he felt warm and _strange_.

Yuze heard Yuka laugh then, felt the bed shake with his movements, as he strutted away to some shelf in an adjacent room, and returned promptly, holding cupped in his hand a shimmering blue phial that would have made sperm whale bowel-mucus perfume proud to be contained within.

“What’s that? Is it some aphrodisiac?” Cecir asked.

“No, no,” Yuka said, “it’s quite a different type of substance, even if it is in its own way a kind-of sexual stimulant.”

“What does it do?”

“Makes it bigger.”

“Like the pills that those spam emails sell?”

“Except it actually works. I like mine small and nifty, so I haven’t used it. But I’ve tried it on one of my servants, and it worked quite well indeed! No, fear not, it won’t make it into a cumbersome freak-show attraction, the man with the third leg, Mr. Elephant Penis, no, but it will make an organ much mightier!”

“Cecir should do it!” Yuze interjected. “Oh, how he could fuck me if his thing was huge! The right size of my insatiable arse! Fill it completely! Stuff me like a turkey!” _What weird things were coming out of his mouth_ , he thought, and felt slightly embarrassed. The rough fuck must have broken some inhibition circuitry in his brain, at least temporarily, to make him say such things.

“Do you want to?” Yuka asked then, opening the lid. The substance within radiated a pleasant, soothing smell that reminded of lavender. Yuze thought of the scent of his bed sheets when freshly washed in long-gone childhood days. “There is a way of reversing the result, should you be dissatisfied.”

“Okay,” Cecir said, “go for it...” Cecir’s prick was softening slowly, and some semen drivelled from the tip out of the slack foreskin.

Yuka moved in, tilted the phial. Flowing thick and soft pastel-pink in hue was the substance, and it dripped down onto Cecir’s cock. “Start rubbing it,” said Yuka, “it won’t do anything to any other part of the body. Just rub it in so it gets all over.”

Yuze lay near and watched it unfold, and dreamed of how great it could be.

“It’s cold, tickles a little,” Cecir said as more dripped down and he took some in his hand and began to rub, “but it feels so smooth...” Still more dripped, some getting on the bed, but it didn’t seem to matter. Eventually the entire thing was coated in the slimy mucus-like substance, and Yuka stopped the dripping and closed the phial and walked back with it.

Cecir whined after a moment, apparently having doubts. "It's starting to burn," he said, cringing from pain. "Really bad... do you think something went wrong?"

All the same, they saw it grow. It was expanding in every way, growing thicker, longer—even though it wasn’t standing at full sail, it was noticeably larger. He stumbled dizzily for a second, then looked relieved. “I think… it’s stopping.” Yuka returned with a towel with which he brushed off the substance.

Yuze inspected the tool now.

“It’s definitely larger,” said he as he gazed upon it, “but it’s not too large either, not freakish or anything. Have you something to measure it with?”

“Just a second!” Yuka said. “I’ll fetch something.” He laughed wryly. “Dick-measuring contest! Juvenile joys!”

“I’m just making sure the dimensions are good! I know I’d lose the contest, and I don’t care. It’s fine if mine is small. Cecir’s bottom is _tight_.”

Cecir blushed, still holding his enlarged thing as if it was some alien appendage, hanging bulky like a fish over his hand.

Then came Yuka back with a measuring tape.

It was a full twenty-one centimetres, and with a respectable girth. It had thus grown by five centimetres in length. Now, it was a truly formidable specimen. At that point, the tingling sensation in Yuze’s body had intensified, and he felt a bit groggy, and noises and sounds he heard seemed amplified. He felt as if he was drunk, intoxicated though it was a while since he last drank anything, let alone alcohol.

But maybe it was the work of Yuka’s seed... the possibility existed. He had said it would bring forth changes. Then surely, this was expected?

Yuze dreamed he lay on his back on a raft on a river that flowed tranquilly through a deeply eroded cutting of sandstone. The walls towered vertical and steep on either side. His eyes focused on a falling snow flake that, on closer inspection, turned out to be a fine corn of volcanic ash; it looked like a tiny foamy stone and felt almost weightless.

 

*

He can’t have been out of it for very long before he woke up again. All of his body seemed filled with a strange electric current, a strange force. It made him slightly afraid, but the cause was obvious, for Cecir lay in a similar position, sprawled with arms out and face buried in the sheets, and seemed to be gathering his consciousness. Then he noticed it—even if he had somewhat anticipated it, it was nevertheless a shocking sight, for protruding on top of Cecir’s head, from his black mess of fucked-sweaty hair was nothing short of a pair of horns such as one might see on some kind of savannah cattle. Black and shiny, they were straight and angled somewhat forwards. Cecir exhaled and got up on his arms and threw a glance at Yuze. From the way his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes grew with disbelief, it was no challenge to deduce that Yuze too now boasted a pair of horns. He reached for his head and did indeed strike something hard and sleek the texture of human nails. They were clearly not straight like Cecir’s, but rather seemed to twist like spirals, and towards the tips they were ribbed.

He looked around for a mirror, to inspect the order of things, but saw none. Yuka was also not to be seen in the room, and he wondered where he had gone—or had he just been a dream? _No, surely not, then they would not still be in this room, would they?_ Yuze crawled on all fours to the edge of the bed and then put a foot off the edge and on the floor and steadied himself with his arms before trying to stand up. He felt a bit unstable and dazed, but not insurmountably so.

“Are we like him now?” Cecir said at his back.

“I guess so, but I’m not complaining. I always looked up to Yuka.”

Cecir started getting out of the bed, too. “Where do you think he went?”

“Some important daemonic meeting, maybe.” As Yuze replied lamely, he began to feel his limbs revitalise. Movements became easier, more fluid than he remembered them being. It was like being twenty again, with a slight runner’s high and none of the weariness that usually accompanied such. Some drastic change in his physiology had taken place, beyond the horns that now sprouted on his head, and he liked it. His cock was hard again, but he didn’t really feel like using it. He turned around and said, “Hey, let me test your new equipment with my mouth in the meanwhile.”

“You slut—you’re insatiable! But fine, I’m suddenly quite horny anyway.” Cecir poked the horns on his head jokingly, then he walked around the bed toward Yuze, his magically augmented stiff cock bouncing with each step—his skirt couldn’t even begin to cover it any more. Yuze got on his knees, bringing his palms together in mock supplication as the feast approached him. He extended his tongue for it, and shuddered when they met. It was like his first taste all over again. Reaching down to stroke himself, he probed under Cecir’s foreskin with his tongue, making a circuit of the mouthful of glans. It had a flowery taste that gave his tongue a pleasant tingling sensation as he worked.

Cecir gave his bunches a little tug. “You want to try taking it deeper?”

At that urging, Yuze stretched his jaw out and signalled with a curt moan; and, holding onto Yuze’s bunches of bleach-blonde hair, Cecir pushed well into his throat. The urge to vomit welled up, but he brought it under control and tried to relax the muscles of his throat as Cecir’s huge, hard cock squeezed into it, just another cunt in Yuze’s body. In a minute, he heard someone open the door, perhaps Yuka returning, and would have ignored it and gone on being Cecir’s masturbation-toy had he not pulled out suddenly then. Yuze heard the slow clicking of heels behind him, and other sounds, too; wet sounds, and something heavy and soft being dragged. He had no choice but to turn and see.

Near the doorway stood a pretty green-haired daemon whose grey horns curled into spirals; he wore some sexy sort of maillot with his high-heeled boots and elbow-length gloves, but that wasn’t exactly remarkable compared to what he pulled in behind him by what Yuze could only assume was its absurdly long, prehensile penis. Except it had more than one of them, along their lengths dripping slime continuously secreted from their tips. Eight in total; the main body resembled a red beanbag chair, and the phallic tendrils which extended from holes in the body were a lighter pink colour.

The green-haired daemon spoke: “Yuka-chan will be with you shortly. As an apology for making you wait, he sent up this present which will give you much pleasure.”

“P-present?” Cecir stuttered, but the errand boy had already gone out.

Yuze stood and took a cautious step toward the beast, which seemed to be waiting. “A biological fuck-machine,” he said with a hint of awe. “Look at all the penises!” He reached for one, curling his fingers halfway around its thick length—it wriggled slimy in his grasp, and as if reacting to his touch, another of the appendages brushed past his hip and coiled around his thigh, lovingly hugging and caressing his flesh. His cock throbbed harder than ever before, and a third tendril slipped under his balls and turned up, pressing for entry in his anus. Such entry was rather easily gained. “Ah,” he moaned. “Don’t you get it now? You’d better pick up some of the slack.”

And as if answering a command, Cecir stepped forward and gripped one of the free tendrils in both hands, stroking its long, greasy shaft and taking the tip in his mouth; he moved like he was going to pull his head away, but the thing he took in his mouth snaked abruptly down his throat. His gagging sounds were so cute to Yuze, and another appendage coiled around his waist. It certainly was a present: he’d get to be ravaged by such a lewd beast while watching the same happen to the person he most cherished. He focused on Cecir’s fledgling throes of ecstasy, and writhed as the phallic arm of the beast twisted his own intestine; bringing his unoccupied hand to his abdomen, he felt its restless bulge beneath the latex covering of his belly. If he weren’t so jaded by normal sex, it might have scared him, but now all he was inclined to do was slip his hand past it and stroke his cock; using the creature’s abundant slime as lube seemed to make all his blood rush there.

The member in his other hand caressed his cheek, and he readily lowered his jaw for it to pass into his throat. Maybe the two tendrils would meet inside his belly. The thought excited him further, and tears streamed down his face, trailing eyeliner; the look of someone well fucked. Cecir’s make-up didn’t seem to run so easily, or his gag reflex was somehow weaker—unlikely!

The grip around Cecir’s waist pushed his bottom onto another slick phallus—Yuze couldn’t be sure if these things were really penises, or rather bio-engineered instruments of daemonic pleasure, for they seemed unlikely to serve any reproductive purpose, and hadn’t yet ejaculated beyond the constant stream of slime. Cecir moaned like a harlot with his mouth full when for a moment his throat was clear, and just then Yuze heard the door open, and craned his neck as best he could to see who had come to watch.

There was Yuka, grinning.

“How good,” he said, coming near, “you left a couple for me. Ah, I’ll get a taste with you two before this thing tires out—looks like it still has a good half hour of fun to provide. Only after shall we move onto business matters.” He gripped one of the free tendrils roughly, and seemed to assault it with his long, narrow tongue. And as if hurrying to satisfy him, the other rose and went straight for his anus. He cried sluttily when it entered him.

Yuze felt himself orgasm. There was so much hot, translucent slime all over him by now, he couldn’t really tell by looking, but he felt it strongly. And even as his climax made him overly sensitive to touch, the tendrils kept on working, and unexpectedly, a second surge from within shortly followed. Such absolute pleasure was something to fear, too, but Yuka-chan had promised it’d be over soon…

 

*

A small room some floors up a spiral staircase in some thin tower, and yet another yawning hole that passed for an unpaned window through which blew warm desert air; beyond the rugged jagged ramparts lay the endless sand-sea, and on the horizon were forming large clouds which seemed to shift in hue as the light of the blueish sun filtered through them. Within the room was a table set and a shelf with books whose titles could not be read, some thin like pamphlets and others large and heavy like some medieval book, an illustrated bible, a Codex Gigas; on the wall opposite the window, and lit by the blue-tinged glow, was a map of the world; not the world they were in, but of earth, Tellus, named so for that physicist, Edward Teller, who once suggested a vast subterranean port be dug out of the mountains in Alaska using nuclear explosives, safe underground from the impending global nuclear war; to him no doubt everything could be solved with more nuclear weapons—the map was covered with small red markers. Yuze assumed they were the locations of various portals, which from what Yuka had said had all been sealed. There were three on the Japanese Islands; one, near the northernmost point of Hokkaido was the one through which they had breached; another seemed to be on Kyushu, and the last—far off on some island adjacent to Okinawa, that island soiled by the presence of rancid outliers of the American empire; military bases like fragments of the United States transposed elsewhere, complete with winding suburban roads and detached homes of familiar style, a home away from home.

Yuka was rummaging through a crate filled with papers and other assorted oddities, colourful gemstones and fragments that looked like carved bone, until he withdrew from its murky depths two phials similar to the one that he had used on Cecir previously and set them down on the table.

“There we go,” he said as he shut the crate, “that’s what I was looking for.”

“What are they for?”

Yuka licked his lips with his long tongue, wetting them. They glistened slightly. It looked attractive. Yuze was starting to feel antsy again, even if it was less than an hour ago that the biological fuck-machine had its way with them and drew from them the most soul-upheaving orgasms. His prick stiffened in the sheath—but perhaps no one would notice.

“They are a protective substance. You drink some, and it will offer protection against... I guess we might as well call it “spells”, even if it is not just something your enemies will say, it requires some more preparation and ritual, given that the angles and the symbols are right... Either way, this will protect you from any attempts of theirs to limit your agency. And it’s just to drink a little—these two should be more than enough, it’s just to be safe that you get both. Okay?”

Cecir and Yuze nodded sympathetically.

Yuka flicked through some papers, then threw out on the table before Yuze and Cecir two tiny polaroid pictures, the sort that rich-parent bandgirls had no qualms about paying five-hundred yen for. Yuze did not recognise them at all.

“These are the sorcerers,” Yuka said plainly. “Do you know them? They are in some band, I believe.”

Yuze shook his head. One had hair that was tied in bunches and hung far-down, though it looked a bit too thick, as if it was some extensions. It was hard to tell what of the hair was and was not real. He also appeared to be licking a large lollipop. The other had plainer hair, blonde-bleached as well, and gave a slutty smirk as was wont to make the bandgirls’ nether mouths salivate profusely, and wore something red and shiny, though it was matte and clearly no latex, nor even PVC, the poor man’s substitute. The pictures were small, and it was hard to make out many details.

But Cecir spoke up. “I’ve seen them. I saw a poster at a live house for them, I think their band was called... Morrigan, or something? Didn’t seem like my cup of tea, even if they were reasonably attractive.”

“Fortunately for you, you won’t have to sit through a concert or anything. Just find them and fuck them. They might well try silly things or try to evade, but with a sip from the phial, none of their magick can affect you. Fuck them, and corrupt them, and it will destroy their power, and when they are down, the seal on the portals, all across the world, will be lifted, and we can get out of this place, escape this dying world, this insufferable desert nightmare...” Yuka looked out the window with a hint of sadness. “It used to be beautiful, you know. It’s disheartening to see what it has turned into. What all the universe strives towards. Inhospitable nothing.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for digressing like that. Do you have any further questions?”

“Won’t this all happen to earth, too? Eventually?” Yuze enquired.

Yuka smiled. “It will. But there’s still time until then. When that happens, we can go elsewhere. Portals can be opened—it’s a tedious process, but can be done, and there are existing ones that might be used. If all goes to hell and without preparations—we can survive in space. It is boring and tedious beyond belief, but it is doable. We’ll want to avoid that of course. Naturally, there is more to it. But you have time to learn.”

He moved to the door. “If you’d like to come with me, we can go to the dress chamber. There might be things you’d like to take with you?” His smile was inviting, and Yuze felt excited to browse such a place. They walked on out of the room; Yuka leading, they entered eventually a room which looked at first glance like a gigantic library. There were three levels, with walkways facing the open centre, where one could see the ceiling of three floors up; along each were arranged small closet-like spaces filled with clothes. If one was thorough and meticulous, it would surely take weeks to go through them all, but Yuze thought it could bring only pleasure and fun if they were to at least take a cursory glance through the endless hangers.

“Most were bought before the seal,” Yuka said. “A handful, made from a particular animal that once upon a time was a common cattle on this planet. Its thick, black syrupy blood made for a durable and good latex substitute. Could not be differentiated from the real deal by the naked eye. Anyway, have a look around, pick what you like. I’ll wait here.” He sat his bottom down on a crimson leather sofa.

Yuze and Cecir went up one of the ornate spiral stairs with steps of onyx, and set to work browsing as if it was some vast fetish-clothes emporium.

 

*

  Yuka had followed them back to the gate, reached via a hidden subterranean passageway that brought them to the sandy fields just across the way through which they had come. Sand blew as before, gusts full of it, a quiet rattling barely audible above the wind itself. Ahead, the tunnel.

Yuka stopped, kicked some dust up. “Guess this is it,” he said, “ _for now._ ” There, he smiled. “Have fun while you’re at it.”

Yuze carried a bag they had been given. In it—additional clothes, as well as what they had worn when they came in. Cecir and Yuze faced him. It was a cinematic scene, poignant with some unspoken tension and drama. The red sun was ascending again, the sun tugging at their clothes. At the top of one of the spires of the fortress flew some huge, fat black bird, and there was no sound but the wind which tugged at their hairs. Yuka stepped up to Yuze first, leaned in, and gave him a kiss, wet lips pressed close, soft, warm. Yuka’s tongue spinning through his mouth, licking his tongue, a moment of pure exhilaration, a glimpse in Yuze’s mind of something dark, something sinister, a could-have-been scenario; the outline of a mental hospital entrance, building grey and dark even against the overcast sky; another flash, himself hanging from a noose, a note taped to his breast. Yuka pulled back and looked at him sympathetically and though he didn’t speak, it was as if they exchanged words, some encouragement, a promise that the nightmare he had just glimpsed was not to be, not here, not now, not ever; such wrongs would never come to pass.

Yuka kissed Cecir too, a melancholic farewell, even if just temporarily, and then he waved them off as they turned and entered the tunnel.

Yuze turned back when they were well inside the cave. Sand blew at the opening, but Yuka still stood there, looking at them, looking over them, perhaps, he held his hand still up in a frozen farewell. Soon Yuze couldn’t see him any more, as the way out was further and further away, and the sands drifted, and the winds blew and shifted, hour-glass sands, the lapsing of time...


	7. Chapter 7

It must have been morning when they came out of the entrance in the depression, back on earth, back in reality, and clearly, earlier than the time at which they had arrived. Had really a whole day and night lapsed since they entered? They walked back up the road, to where they had left the car. The weather was warmer now, and the sun was up; the snow had melted. Cecir had donned in the clothing chamber of Yuka a different dress, made from the naturally shiny secretions of that animal which Yuka had spoken of, a dress whose puffy multi-layered skirt reached below his knees and adequately covered his cock. It had ruffles at the shoulders but short sleeves; the top was very similar to the dress he had worn when they came in which now lay inside the bag Yuze carried, though he wore fingerless gloves with it.

Yuze’s outfit was quite different from the old one. A ringed leather collar, from which straps connected to a snug top, similar to a tank-top, of that alien latex-like material, a sharp red, which required no oil to shine; straps also connected to a pair of matching above-elbow-length gloves; a steel-ribbed PVC corset laced tight, which could well have originated on earth, tied at his back; black buckles at the front more for look than function. A black pleated latex skirt tightened with a red belt, and below this a pair of thigh-high stockings with a black horizontal stripe at the top, as well as a pair of black knee-high boots with the usual cherished chunky heels (fifteen centimetres high) and high platforms.

Cecir unlocked the car with the remote key, and they got inside. They had a long drive back ahead of them. But things felt better. The weather helped; a hint of spring. The grass suddenly greener; some obnoxious birds singing, song that on its own might be unbearable, but the context of which was a promise for the future, a brighter future. It was as if some terrible weight had been lifted abruptly from their shoulders.

Cecir flipped up his mobile phone, and though the coverage was fine for a call, the web browser would just permanently display a loading symbol; sighing, he put it down. They drove down the winding country lanes towards the coast; there lay a dying fishing village through which cut as a straight line the traces of an abandoned railway line, whose rails had long ago been lifted, visible only as a slowly eroding low embankment adjacent to the road. Even the sidewalks around here had grass growing through the cracks in the asphalt.

WAKKANAI AIRPORT, the sign showed and pointed left, to the south. They drove there, and parked on the nearly empty extended-stay car park. As they walked to the building—Cecir taking the old sports bag, Yuze the new, larger bag—the wet asphalt glowed with sunlight.

There weren’t many people at the small airport, and to get space on the flight to Tokyo was no problem. Twice daily were the flights, but the next one was not far—an hour and some—so after getting the tickets they sat down to dine in the small restaurant on site. Everything seemed to taste better since they came back, Yuze thought, but maybe that was just a product of some changed disposition.

A handful of people seemed to look at their horns, but clearly, they all thought they were fake. They were obviously cosplaying something or other in the minds of most. Eccentrics of that nature were far from rare, and even at an outlying place such as Wakkanai, people knew what it was, even if they had not seen it before. Their unusual clothing obviously served to accentuate the impression in the eyes of the casual observer.

They sat waiting until the time was right, and their flight was announced. Only about a dozen or so others were boarding it along with them. The plane was a worn, old type, of smaller design intended for lower-load regional services such as these. Many seats yawned empty, so Yuze and Cecir sat down near the rear bathroom, entering almost last.

The plane shook as it accelerated and took off. Some annoying child was crying further ahead, despite their parents’ valiant efforts to calm them.

Airborne. Yuze thought of pathogens then. The exchange of air within the plane. At least, after what they had been through... such things wouldn’t affect them. If it wasn’t just a dream... He looked at Cecir, and he still had the horns, then he reached up for his own head, and out of the hair they still stood, smooth and resolute. Cecir was reading some paper he had plucked off the back of the serving tray that all seats had affixed to the back, some kind of filler that was mostly imbecilic advertisement and scattered equally imbecilic articles.

Yuze was bored.

Somewhere over Hokkaido. Cecir preoccupied, Yuze snuck a hand across his lap and pressed to see if he’d feel the cock there underneath it all. He thought he felt _something_ there.

Cecir put the rag down. Yuze leaned towards him.

“Want to go into the plane lavatory? I hear it’s where people go for sex while they are on aëroplanes.”

Cecir looked to the side with a worried mien. “What if someone sees us?”

“Well, I go in, then you come along and go some minute later. No one would suspect! If they did, who cares anyway? Maybe they want to do it too, maybe they’re just jealous! Either way, let’s go. I want some cock.”

Cecir bit his lip, then surrendered. “Okay, I’ll come and enter after you.”

Yuze got up, giddy with excitement. Though his erection made a tent of his skirt, there was no one in front of him from their seats to the door of the unoccupied lavatory, and it was a brief journey of a few steps.

The cubicle was small, as he had expected, all white, a small toilet seat, a tiny shallow washbasin, and a mirror. He hadn’t seen a mirror for a while. He saw now that his spiralling horns were a red that almost perfectly matched the red he wore on his outfit, a pleasant surprise. It would be an effort to fuck in here—but that was the charm, wasn’t it? A challenge. Not to mention the risk of discovery—the morally upstanding, conservative mother would roar like a tiger at the faintest idea that her child might hear sounds of sex, even if there was little chance the kid would know what they meant, let alone pay much attention without its mother’s obsession born from self-repression.

Yuze put a knee on the washbasin and licked a finger he thereafter reached back and stuck up his arsehole. He had gotten another inside when there came a knock on the door, and he had to turn around to face it.

Yuze opened the door, it had a latch-lock on the inside. Cecir stepped in, blushing slightly, steps a bit nervous, locking the door behind him.

Yuze pulled Cecir’s skirt up and reached for the organ, thick and mighty where it hung like some portentous elephantine trunk, with purple lines of veins which carried the blood that inflated its musculature, that stiffened it as much as possible, even if gravity won out with such a mass—he tugged at it a few times.

“Spit on it,” he told Cecir, and Cecir did; the saliva gathering around Yuze’s gloved hand on the shaft, rubbing it in like some massage oil, smearing the length like a bun ready for the oven. Then he turned around back to the way he was before he opened the door; putting a knee back on the edge of the washbasin, another on the toilet seat edge, arching his back and steadying himself with his hands against either side of the cramped cubicle. Cecir laughed behind him at the acrobatics required, and then pushed his warm massive cock towards Yuze’s rear. The skirt pushed up and out of the way, it slid into his wet crevice and knocked on the door of his anus.

He held himself still and relaxed his muscles as the thing prodded and was soon permitted entry. Yuze whined inarticulate gibberish as it kept pushing its way on in like a grub eating its way through an apple. “Ah, fuck, you’ll make my arse gape like a black hole...” A sliver of drool dripped down from the corner of Yuze’s mouth, he saw in the mirror; saw too his face warped in some strange, ethereal lewd mien, and was aroused by that itself, too.

“You’ll gape all right!” Cecir said as he pulled back and then drove it in again, “you dirty exhibitionist slut!”

Again it pushed in. Just then, he was arrested mid-thrust by another knock on the door. Cecir sighed but pulled out slowly from Yuze’s dilated sphincter, then tucked his skirt back down and turned to the door. In a hushed voice Yuze could not hear, Cecir spoke to someone at the door, then opened it up to let whoever in as well. Yuze tried to turn, nearly slipping off the wash-basin, but gave up.

He was smiling as he came into view, that third party. He had a blue and black coiffure, hanging loose and casual, though even with little make-up his face was obviously pretty. And young. Contemptuously young, Yuze thought, but that’d just make him a sweeter fuck.

“I’m sorry to come barging in like this, but you seemed to be having fun! I saw you before, when you were waiting for the plane, I could tell you were that kind of people! Can I join a bit? My name’s Hisame, and I’ll do anything you let me!”

Yuze gave it a thought. “You better be ready to suck my arse.”

“Sure! I’ll suck anything!”

“Such a good attitude will get you far, and further still if backed up by actions! Cecir, sit down on the toilet edge there, let this boy fuck you. My arse is probably too loose after what you did to it to satisfy this one.” Cecir snickered but obeyed, sitting down and slipping forwards while pulling up his skirt to reveal his bottom. The boy was taken aback by the size of his cock, but as it wasn’t to go into his bum—not right now, anyway, Yuze thought with amusement—he seemed to find himself with the order of things quickly. “I just put mine in, then?” He was wearing some terribly ugly vestments; a pair of drab black trousers and some tasteless black jacket and a white office-shirt with a blue necktie.

“Yes, get it on with! Put it in! Put it in!” Yuze laughed a bit, and the boy obviously felt some sort of pressure from it, for he fumbled with his cock before he managed to get it to line up with Cecir’s arsehole, almost losing some of the stiffness in the process. But soon he drove it in.

It was about the size of Yuze’s own cock. A little smaller, a little bigger, it was hard to say exactly, but it wasn’t anything to be jealous of. Yuze watched for a while Hisame go to work on Cecir’s bottom, before he decided to interfere like a Keynesian economist trying to rescue the capitalist economy from its inherent social and economic ills, dropping in the face of overwhelming crisis the laissez-faire attitude altogether; Cecir was leaned back against the wall behind the toilet, and Yuze stepped over him, motioned for him to lean forward. It was almost right height, Cecir had to stretch up a bit to reach it, but it worked enough. Most likely a bit uncomfortable for his back, but a little pain is only further pleasure.

Yuze turned his head slightly so that he could see the boy behind him. “You, lick my arse!” he commanded. The boy leaned forward, slowing some in his fucking while he did so, and Yuze felt the tongue soon scrape like an ice-cream scoop, wet with saliva and slightly cold, against his loosened anus, ticklingly lolling against the anal lips. “Yeah, that’s good, a little deeper,” he said, and while Cecir kept sucking at the front with his face under the skirt, Yuze reached back with his hand and found the boy’s head and pushed it towards him. The boy whined a little but took it in good humour and kept on sucking his arse.

Yuze was not long in delivering his load into Cecir’s mouth, who as always swallowed it promptly and without remainders; Cecir leaned himself back again, to rest against the wall. Pushing Hisame slightly away, Yuze squatted and felt under him, touching Hisame’s wrist. As intended, he couldn’t keep his hands off that big cock in front of him while fucking and sucking arse. “I’m going to sit on it,” Yuze said. “Are you still hard, too?”

“Of course,” Hisame answered. “I’m not some premature ejaculator!”

“Good! Then you will pull out of his hole and push into mine beside him!” So saying, Yuze brushed aside Hisame’s hand and gripped Cecir’s fully engorged cock, beginning to lower himself onto it. He let out a little moan as his thoroughly moistened anus received the glans almost immediately.

“Ah, I’m jealous...” commented Hisame. “But my prick is always ready to go where it’s needed.” He squeezed Yuze’s buttocks, and soon Yuze felt his rubbery helmet squeezing in beside Cecir’s—and he had only just finished gobbling _that_ up!

His slippery male cunt expanded down both their shafts. If he had one in his mouth, and one in each hand as well, he thought sluttily, he could know _the ultimate womanly pleasure._ But there wasn’t enough room around an aëroplane toilet for that. When he slid down, Cecir opened his mouth for some stertorous breath, and Yuze stuck two fingers in, and Cecir sucked them just like a cock, apart from how he skilfully wriggled his tongue in between them every now and then. This mock fellatio felt almost as good as the real thing, but neither compared to the feeling of two erections swimming in his arse. It was rather tiring for his legs to keep it up in this position, however—he seemed to be doing all the work.

“My back hurts,” Cecir complained. And as if in response, Hisame hugged Yuze’s waist and pulled him back, off of Cecir’s tower which momentarily swayed lonely in the gentle current of pulsing blood.

“We can finish standing up,” Hisame said. “I have experience with in-flight orgies, so my body’s well cut out for this work.” And Cecir rose in the cramped space, pushing against the walls to help him, and hurriedly returning to his duty.

Hisame’s saliva had started to dry, so it hurt when Cecir pushed in again beside him, grabbing the undersides of Yuze’s thighs. The reëntry made Yuze squirt a small spend. “Ah,” he moaned, “doing it standing up like this is romantic.” Then, placing his hands on Cecir’s shoulders, he forced his tongue into his mouth, and they kissed like lovers in some pandering film subplot while Cecir thrust into him alongside Hisame, their cocks taking turns going in to the hilt and sometimes going in together like mating snakes with unusual sexual dimorphism. The dreamlike qualities of this bathroom-fuck almost compared to those experienced back on the dying daemon-planet.

“I’m going to come,” Hisame said after a while.

Yuze broke the link between his face and Cecir’s. “No,” he said and gasped. “Hold it in and keep going—I want it to synchronise with Cecir’s!”

“I-I’ll try to.”

And he did for a few minutes, slowing his thrusts for the sake of semen-conservation, and Cecir following suit. To make up for the slowdown, he played with Yuze’s cock while he kissed him some more. A very special warmth permeated Yuze’s being this way, but a voice over a speaker warned him of paradise’s imminent fall.

“All passengers please return to your seats,” it said. “The plane is about to land at Haneda Airport.”

And Hisame said, “There’s not much time now, I need to finish!” He squeezed one of Yuze’s buttocks hard then and fucked like a machine on the high setting. In an odd way, the rush aroused him further, made it feel like a last, great encounter before some anticipated end of all things. He ejaculated on Cecir’s clothes again, and almost immediately following this, Cecir’s cock expanded and contracted, pumping him full of semen, and Hisame froze up, his own climax triggered by Cecir’s cock squishing his inside. Things could turn out as intended, after all.

They didn’t have time to untangle or even catch their breaths before the plane shook, and they tumbled in the small space. Hisame lost his footing, and Yuze fell back on top of him, both cocks slipping out of his hole. The three of them cried almost in unison, but there were no injuries, and when the shaking stopped, Yuze stood up and got some toilet paper off the roll. They didn’t want to look _too_ much like they’d been fucking when they stepped out, he thought.

He cleaned the odd white stains and droplets off himself and the others before they stepped out; there was a bit of commotion with people gathering their bags and equipment, which worked in their favour; no one seemed to look in their direction right when they stepped out, and they were soon back at their seats and picking up their own things. Cecir spoke to the boy, and returned with a smile when Yuze threw him one of their bags.

“You look satisfied,” he stated.

“Took his number. Gave him mine. So if we want to play with him some time...” he grinned. “Right?”

Yuze smiled, he supposed it was true. Even if the size of his pecker wasn’t the best... maybe he’d try the boy’s bottom next? It looked supple and tender; he fixed his gaze on Hisame’s rump as he passed them, walking down the corridor with his own bag. He had winked at Yuze as he came past, with his tongue out in a weird sexual expression. Then he was gone, out of the plane.

Yuze and Cecir came out soon after, walking through the corridor of the jet bridge, but on their way they could not see the boy ahead of them. He had been surprisingly quick to get out. There was a bustle of activity in the terminal complex, and they rushed down to the subterranean vault of the railway stations serving it; got on a local commuter train and were on their way home.

 

*

Ninth floor, 1LDK; familiarity at last; Yuze put the key in the lock and turned it, and the thick wooden door opened. Stepping into the hallway, there was the familiar smell of the flat, but also a more pungent scent. After leaving the bags at the door and wiping off his shoes on the black welcome mat, he went into the kitchen and promptly found the source of the disturbing emanation; he had left an old milk carton out, and in the warmth it had spoiled. He proceeded to empty and wash it out and squashed it before putting it in the rubbish.

The flat was quite a mess in general. Cecir was scrambling to undress, from what Yuze heard, heading in the direction of the bedroom. He hadn’t thought of it until now, but it had been a long time since they slept. With the weird temporal displacement that had occurred when they were _not-here_ , they had been up for quite a long time, and that on a mere five hours’ sleep the night before. Even if it was just nearing noon, it was as good a time as any to sleep. Yuze went into the living room; a mess of dirty clothes, food packages, some from sweets, soda cans, plastic mineral water bottles, and some old instruments—an old bass of Yuze’s propped up against the wall next to a clothes hamper which was empty, for some reason standing next to the television set. It was a bother, all of it, so he slipped into the bedroom after a detour to the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and got in the bed next to Cecir. He didn’t bother undressing or anything, just lying down on top of the covers with a head on the pillow.

Cecir’s arm reached around him.

That way they fell asleep.

When they woke up it was dark, some time past eight. Yuze crawled out of bed, decided to let Cecir sleep a bit longer, and walked out onto the balcony. The lights of the city so familiar yet so alien. Myriad streams of thoughtless people moving from place to place, the laughs of drunkards down on a nearby commercial strip, some music playing from a bar; the remorseless striving to celebrate Mammon’s glory. The night was a bit chilly, so he quickly went back inside. A small building was being built on what had for as long as Yuze had lived there been a car park, though no progress seemed to have been made for quite a while.

Cecir came walking down the hallway towards the living room, stepping over rubbish and turning the light switch.

“Oh, you’re up,” stated Yuze, “I was just coming to wake you.”

“You woke me up getting out of bed.”

Yuze pouted. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not a problem.” Cecir smiled. “I was exaggerating. I’ll go make some coffee.”

Yuze nodded and slipped down before his computer, seated on the rickety old chair. “Hey,” he called to Cecir then, “what was the name of the band those people we are looking for had?”

“Morrigan?”

“Yeah.” Yuze decided to search for that, and after a page of irrelevant rubbish, some animated series filling a lot of the results, he found something relevant, a live announcement from some months before, but via links, he found his way to their home page. The profile had pictures of those two they had been shewn depicted on tiny chekis; Yuze clicked his way to the page titled schedule. The closest live was the next week, but scrolling down, he found a list of events where they would hold meet and greets. One of those was tomorrow in the afternoon at 16:30.

Cecir came into the living room, with a cup for himself and one for Yuze, which he put on the table. In between deep sips of the warm coffee (with milk in it), he told Cecir of his new discoveries. The record shop wherein the event was to be held did not require more than half an hour’s trip on the metro. Yuze finished his cup while Cecir still had some to go.

Yuze stood up. “I’ll be in the bath, come join me as quickly as you can.” He smiled at Cecir and was off. He went into the bathroom, and began to undress, putting his clothes temporarily on the washbasin. When he was naked he plugged the bath and began to fill it with steaming warm water. He saw his shape in the mirror; the horns were still there. His pale, thin body looked as it used to, but maybe it had been changed, too. He hoped—that’s what Yuka had said, after all.

He shut the water off and slipped a foot into the warmth after pouring some foamy soap in. Though he recoiled at first, he soon adjusted and slipped down into the deep but short tub. He felt pleasantly relaxed when Cecir knocked first and entered; Yuze turned to him. The huge cock hung between his full thighs as he walked up to the bath.

Yuze leaned over the edge and Cecir lifted his cock for him to get it to the right mouth-height. Yuze closed his lips around its head and licked some, then let it slip out. “My favourite cock...” he said, and resumed sucking. He heard Cecir giggle and felt him put a hand around the back of his head, letting it drift upwards, caressing his red horns... Yuze felt his own cock stiffen and slip above the surface of the tub water like a growing sea mount turning into new land after a vast series of eruptions.

He spat out Cecir’s prick.

“Sit down on mine,” he said, “look at it! It wants to be inside someone... how it stands, reaches for the heavens!”

Cecir put a foot down on either side of Yuze’s hips in the tub and then started to lower himself; Yuze held the base of his cock to aim it right. Cecir’s buttocks touched the water, and he hissed like some snake, but went on; the cock slipped inside. It seemed to tickle a bit, doing it in the water, from the way Cecir gave an amused grimace, but regardless, it was in, like a gang of robbers in a vault.

Even if Cecir’s hole had been fucked, it seemed snug enough, and he began to ease himself on and off while Yuze toyed with his mighty organ which stood hard, pointing towards his face. The warm water sloshed to and fro in the tub.

Cecir spent in Yuze’s hand; he brought it to his mouth and licked it, and readied himself for his own climax; Cecir’s buttocks slapped against the water heavenly, and soon it was there, that rising surge within, and the spending rushed forth and out of his cock, liberated inside of Cecir’s arse. Yuze twisted and moaned and Cecir’s pace slowed.

He let it slip out slowly. Then sat down on the opposite side of the tub, his legs outside Yuze’s; he turned a knob and filled the tub up further.

Yuze reached for a shaving razor on the ledge that ran along the wall and handed it to Cecir. “It’s about that time, that you shave my arse.” Cecir took it, and Yuze turned around to face away. Some water brimmed over the edge and flowed down onto the floor, down the beige sides.

“Don’t shave too closely, I don’t want you cutting me like that one time...” Yuze said. Cecir sighed, though it was a jest. Then the blade met his buttocks, slipping over them. The hair wasn’t long, but it is good to be pro-active, he thought; and anyway, it went faster then. Cecir was soon done, and put the razor down. Seconds later, his huge cock pressed up against Yuze’s sphincter and pushed inside; it seemed that it already had rested sufficiently to fully reflate.  The cock was wet, yet slipped in easily—probably from the earlier explorations—and soon Cecir fucked him hard, making the waters shift, splash over the edge—a shampoo bottle fell in, floated around like a ship lost at sea until Yuze put it back up. Then he put a hand up towards Cecir, who stopped and pulled out.

“Wait a little,” he said, “I don’t want you coming too quickly. Let’s play a little. I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the bath, took a towel, dried himself—his hair hadn’t got too damp. “Just wait here.”

Yuze scampered out of the bathroom, still dripping slightly. In the bedroom he opened a drawer and pulled out a few old toys. A headband with black cat-ears, he donned forthwith, fit ahead of the horns on his head; there were also a large anal plug with a long fluffy tail, and a collar with a leash attached, as well as a large adjustable blindfold. He took these with him back to the bathroom.

“Hey, hey,” Yuze said with a smile, Cecir turned his head to him. “I picked up some things.” He put the collar around his neck, then spat on the plug and smeared the saliva over it. Then he got on all fours (or rather threes, as one held the plug, and in that position pushed it in) and handed Cecir, who was just stepping out of the bath, the end of the leash. “I’m your slave and pet. Play with me?” Cecir took a towel and began to dry himself off. The water gurgled down the drain, as Cecir had pulled the plug. Yuze handed him the blindfold. “Put this on me.”

Cecir laughed wryly and did so, fastening the buckles of the blindfold (black leather, large enough to black out all vision) around the back of Yuze’s head, before he started walking and tugging at the leash.

Yuze followed him, walking on his hands and knees. Yuze expected the bedroom, but they were not going there, for Cecir turned into the living room instead. Yuze heard him push something aside on the sofa—one of Cecir’s own guitars perhaps, he remembered seeing one lying there collecting dust—and he sat down. Yuze heard the television blink on. Muffled television newscaster voices.

“Go ahead and suck,” Cecir said, feigning a sort of masterly disinterest. “Don’t mind me.”

Yuze crawled closer, felt Cecir’s foot with his hand, and buried his face in between his thighs, until he felt it ahead, unseen, still warm after the bath, though having lost some of its size. Yuze licked it, his tongue scraping against the ruffled, veined surface of the half-deflated thing; down he traced it, to the tip. The foreskin had slipped back over the glans; he worked a bit and eventually got his tongue inside. He pushed it, and managed to, with his teeth, carefully roll the foreskin back. The cock stiffened, slowly.

The channel on the television had changed, but Yuze didn’t pay much attention to what it was broadcasting. The cock grew fat and full, and he tried to take as much of it in his throat as he could.

“Turn around and present your bottom to me,” Cecir interrupted his sucking by saying, and he spat out the huge thing which was stiff as steel.

Yuze turned around, and shook his arse provocatively to swing the tail, and he felt Cecir’s hand grip it, twist it teasingly, then tug, only to let it slip back. He did this a few times before he pulled more steadily, and it eventually slipped out and fell to the floor, lying against the inside of Yuze’s knee.

Then Cecir stood up, aligned his feet to Yuze’s knees, and pushed his manhood inside until the sack slapped against Yuze’s perineum; with Cecir’s hands on Yuze’s shoulders, the fucking began, deep, muscular thrusts, Yuze’s member swaying and drivelling as it continued, machine-thrust of dripping arse-oiled piston—soon Cecir moaned more than usual in between the pants of exertion, his body twitched and drove the lance in for a last stab, and relieved his full, warm load in Yuze’s bowels—

“You came so soon...” Yuze whined.

Cecir was pulling his cock out slowly. “Don’t cry. You can suck it hard again. Besides...” He paused and reached down for the plug, picked it up, and shoved it in harshly—the arse was stretched and ready after all. “This keeps you stuffed for as long as you like.” He sat down on the sofa again (Yuze heard the sound of skin on leather and the way the feet of the sofa moved as he sat down, sliding on the wooden floor). “Come here now, my little bitch, come and suck my cock clean of your arse-juices and clingy spendings. Suck for as long as you like...” Yuze turned around once again, and repositioned himself appropriately. He whiffed the scent of anus, the strong, almost sweetish smell of mucus; it was slackening quickly, but he went to work on it anyway, licking it, then taking as much as possible of it in his mouth, trying to suck it, using his mouth as a fuck-hole. Cecir was preoccupied with some television series, it seemed, but this was the duty of the slave, to transcend such things—he kept sucking, and soon it did indeed begin to reflate.

Yuze kept at it; but eventually Cecir tugged at the leash rather harshly. “Take it deeper,” he said, “I want it in your throat.”

 _Oh_ , Yuze thought. It was getting stiffer now, but he tried his best to make it so. He took it deep, gagged, coughed, and had to pull back, and after the fourth time that Yuze repeated this—it happened automatically, more than anything—Cecir tugged harder at the leash and kept the cock lodged in his throat. He nearly vomited then, but managed to keep it down; he didn’t fancy Cecir would appreciate having sick all over his cock. He pulled back a little, and Cecir did not tug harshly on the leash this time. Yuze reached up and wrapped a hand around it, frigged the saliva-drenched salami and sucked the head fervently, until Cecir’s resumed moans suggested a spend was near. He brought his other hand to Cecir’s balls and squeezed them somewhat hard, but somehow he only spent faster. It poured out of the slit and into Yuze’s suckling mouth, down his throat almost as quickly—Cecir’s hand went behind his head and grabbed some bleach-blonde hair and held it firm; Yuze played with his tongue on the head after it had spent, making Cecir quiver.

“That’s a good bitch,” Cecir said fondly and let go of Yuze’s hair. “Come up here,” he said and tugged at the leash, softly; Yuze crawled up on the sofa, sitting on his knees next to Cecir, leaning in, feeling his warmth... Cecir took hold of Yuze’s erection between his legs. He frigged it, slowly, while Yuze leaned on him. So warm... Cecir’s free arm reached around Yuze’s back, and when he spent and the warm spending drivelled over Cecir’s hand, he was still held close... the television droned on, and he began to feel drowsy.


	8. Chapter 8

 

It was some streets away, when someone asked them to stop—a tourist, perhaps, for these were rancid parts of town where congregated the attention-starved and futureless youth. The tourists enjoyed watching them, as they did what they could to stand out from the mess, like little specks of colour in the vast grey sea of struggling careerists, salary-men in their hideous white and black— “You, can we take a picture with you guys?” the man asked. “You’re some kind of anime cosplayers, right?” The Japanese the man spoke was warped and oddly accented.

Cecir seemed amused by it, so looked at Yuze with a smirk.

When they were to photograph, the man and woman, foreigners from the look of it, smiling, young, probably wealthy from their well-dressed and groomed appearance, the man having a beard that he probably spent an hour trimming every morning and yet couldn’t help but look hideous; the couple with their camera ready, Yuze and Cecir gave a silly mien, then kissed, deeply and long, and when they looked again, the couple was nowhere to be seen, scurried off in the crowds, perhaps they had got what they wanted, or they had been offended; didn’t matter; Yuze looked around and then shrugged, and they went on with their search, just a little distance further—a narrow shopping street laid with tiles, lined with shops, up-scale mostly, and there, accessed by a stairs to a basement locale, was the record shop they sought. Outside it, clamouring fans had gathered, most short as if their teenage growth was stunted by self-inflicted malnourishment; most played with their phones, playing some vacuous mobile game, while a few seemed to know others in the crowd and were chatting loudly as teenagers are wont to do in groups, savages that they are. There was a line extending well outside of the record shop.

Yuze shared a glance with Cecir, who gave a nod ahead; they went down along the side of the crowd—they were not there to get anything signed after all—there were shelves filled with the most disgusting easily digested pop-music, including a shelf now for that vile Korean sick that infested the planet, where critically malnourished, plastic surgery-warped skanks were using their bodies to compensate for their lack of vocal talent (Yuze thought perhaps he should take singing up again...) and, well, anything else, each styled meticulously by some sexist marketing committee at some bloated recording division of some vast conglomerate whose total domination of the market and subjugation of so-called “pirates” allowed a ridiculously inflated price-rigging on media.

A few shelves down, the tip of the crowd who stood in line, a small table draped with a purple paper tablecloth with a few chairs set in a row towards it against a backdrop of a series of large flyers and posters of the band in question, MORRIGAN, and the red-dressed strumpets that were its members, giving slutty and enticing expressions. Luckily, the assembled bandgirls seemed none to recognise Cecir nor Yuze; probably they were not old fans of the Visual style at all, but recent recruits, eager for sugar-sweet playboys who’d not balk at violating anything with a vulva.

A clock on the wall said it was near time. They went further into the shop, to await the band’s arrival and, eventually, their departure.

“We follow them from here,” Yuze said.

“They’ll probably leave through the storage room and whatever rear access they have, given the number of fans. Do we follow them through there?”

“I suppose we could wait outside, then. Walk around the building, find a rear entrance?”

“What if they don’t take it, then? We could lose them that way.”

Yuze contemplated the predicament. “One of us goes around back, and the other stays inside. All angles covered then, surely? Send a text to the other whichever way they decide to go.”

“Mmhm. Who goes where?”

“I’ll go around outside,” Yuze said, “you stay inside. Okay? And I guess now is the time when we ought to take this thing that Yuka gave us.” Yuze fished it out of his handbag that was slung around his shoulder, the phial. He screwed the cover loose, tipped it in his mouth, and swallowed it. It was a bit sour, but did not taste disagreeably. “Open your mouth”, he told Cecir.

Cecir did so, and Yuze lifted the phial above and dripped some of the pink substance into his mouth. Yuka had said not much was needed, but they were not sure how long it was effective. Yuze closed the phial then and put it back in his bag, nodded farewell to Cecir temporarily as he made his way back towards the entrance they had come in through, where now the throngs of fans were stirring impatiently and eagerly.

Outside, Yuze entered a narrow alleyway, which led around the back of the building. Small, low-rise residential blocks lined the street away from the shop, and at the end of it was a small car park fitting two vehicles, though none were present. There was an alleyway leading towards a larger street (where there was, he remembered from the past, access to a metro station) that led off to the left. Next to a small black-painted steel dumpster he stopped and waited, leaning innocuously against the wall, and fiddling with his phone to seem occupied.

Cecir eventually sent a message, saying that the members of that band were present, including the ones they were after. Yuze walked along the alley to make sure the building had no other accessible entrances, but found it had not, and returned to the dumpster-side entrance. He returned to fiddling with the mobile. In the corner of his eyes he saw a woman come out on a balcony to smoke, soon playing with her own mobile phone.

It was nearing five when Cecir sent a message saying they had disappeared ‘backstage’ as he called it. Yuze focused his eyes towards the door while keeping the phone out, and when they finally stepped out in the afternoon light, it almost took him by surprise despite the advance warning. The boys were chatting idly as they down the alley towards the metro station entrance. Yuze let them get a good head start, watching them casually from behind; they had not noticed him at all. There was the blonde singer, and the blonde—Yuze didn’t remember exactly, was he the drummer? The guitarist? There were the two other members too, one black haired and another blonde slut, strolling assertively and... masculine, filled with a sexual charge the likes of which you only saw in tasteless, young horny males, whose beds filled with nocturnal emissions... When they were some distance away, approaching the road and the metro station, Yuze put the phone down into the bag and moved to the corner of the building, looked down the alley there—Cecir came down with decisive strides and soon converged with Yuze.

Ahead, the boys descended the stairs down to the underground station.

They hurried ahead. There weren’t too many people at the station in question, so it was little challenge to spot them – with their red attire they quite stood out, even more than Yuze and Cecir, whose clothes, though eccentric, no doubt about it, were mostly black. A silvery aluminium train burrowed through the tunnel, braked and stopped at the station; Yuze and Cecir pushed their way in—Yuze thought he felt a hand grab for his arse somewhere in the throng—but as they moved away from the door it was less packed. They could see the others in the other carriage; they were going some distance it seemed, for they sat down on some of the empty seats. The electric motors whirred and the train accelerated rapidly out of the station, leaving behind the yellow lamps and the advertisements; some lights passing in the tunnel outside, signals; a turn and the wheels of the train protested and whinged.

 

*

The two they did not care for, departed four stations earlier. By this time there were less people in the train, and it was not such a challenge to keep eyes on their targets. They alighted, and Yuze and Cecir were out of their own carriage quickly, sneaking in the shadow of some white-tiled supporting pillars; they saw them head on up the stairs at leisurely pace. They followed them cautiously and belatedly, but the station did not have many passengers waiting nor moving about, and with their red attire they stood out like sore thumbs. Up the stairs, down a corridor, through the turnstiles past the ticket office and the ticket machines—in the fading warm yellow light of afternoon, they were exiting the station. Yuze and Cecir were quickly there, saw them round a corner down the road, next to a ramen restaurant and flower shop.

Yuze and Cecir came to the corner, and headed down the alleyway. There was only one way they could have taken—another alley that joined at a T-junction, where the route ahead was blocked off by a construction site with a placard about a Land Readjustment Plan. They thus turned at the corner. The alleyway was longer than the other, and three to five-storey buildings, mostly commercial and offices, towered and cast a shadow over it. It was no more than around two metres and some in width. But their targets were not where they expected them to be—somewhere near the larger street ahead; rather, they stood facing them at about five metres further ahead, near an anonymous red-painted back door to some drab office building.

“We noticed you some time back,” one of them said, the singer Yuze recalled. “We know what you are.” He lifted an aluminium can, as might have contained some food at one point, though the markings had all been scraped off, and tipped it. A black powder, that looked much like gunpowder in fact, fell out, and the _boy_ (Yuze invariably kept returning to thinking of him as such) spun around and made a circle on the asphalt. “You can’t cross this,” he said, “you vile—“

“Oh, shut it,” Cecir interrupted what was sure to be a trite and pretentious harangue, and took a step towards the circle; Yuze put his bag down on the asphalt and did the same. The other boy gave them a mocking smile.

“What you gonna do, eh?” he smirked sinfully, turned his rear to them, and smacked it, making his skimpy shorts flutter. “Can’t do shit, stupid faggot daemons!”

Cecir just walked on, but the boys seemed certain that they were safe. Yuze set his sights on the singer, and walked towards the circle too. Nothing happened when Cecir traversed it, absolutely nothing. Some of the powder was kicked up by his heels, but there was no magical spark, no invisible wall, no nothing. The boys seemed first to not realise it had happened, so earnestly convinced were they that it could not—but they realised it soon thereafter. The boy with the long-hair and bunches reacted first; he moved aside from Cecir’s approach, tried to throw a punch, but missed.

Singer-boy was ahead of Yuze now, expression a bit troubled but still beaming unwarranted confidence and false security. Yuze angled his horns to the boy, like a charging rhinoceros, but the boy took a step to the left, and from there he grabbed hold of Yuze’s horns.

Yuze shook his head. He had expected more resistance from the weight and power of the boy, but something had changed inside him, and the boy was lifted clear off the ground with little effort—it felt as if he was but a cardboard cut-out used to advertise some hair-saloon; and the boy flew quite a distance, slammed into the wall, tumbled down and lay thereafter still. He raised his upper body, but sat still, visibly shocked.

Yuze glanced at Cecir, who had already conquered the blonde-bunched harlot with ease and now kept him pinned down while he harshly squeezed his huge cock into that firm previously untapped natural resource that was the harlot’s rump. His prick, however, was tiny and useless, even though as he was rammed it inflated, it grew not much larger than a pinkie.

Yuze had his own toy, of course; he redirected his attentions thereat. The boy looked at him with a mien incorporating all the shame and disappointment in the self he felt. He had come to true introspection, seeing the fickle nature of his own being and existence, the temporality of all normal life... drifting blind on a rock in a universe that exists for no greater reason, no ulterior motive or point; he had lost his faith, and you could see it in his face; it excited Yuze sexually. He would be submissive from now on, and try no funny things, for he had gazed into the yawning gulf and had a taste of its bitter emptiness. Yuze lifted his skirt and the boy opened his mouth readily and sucked as if he wanted to; realising perhaps that it was all he was worth, realising that it was no worse than anything else, for ahead of him waited the universe patiently, for him and everyone... he was a good mouth. If he was kind he might be spared like they had been from the limitless horror of ordinary life, spared from the boredom of novels written ‘on the human condition’, detailing the meaningless events of boring dimwits; a man in search of his father, of upbringing, of needless backstories that in the end mean nothing, for when the earth trembles and disintegrates, even the cracked mausoleums, crypts and tombstones shall shatter and disappear—Yuze motioned for the boy to turn around and give him his arse, and he did so too without complaint, even if a tear or two dripped down on the pavement between them as he swung around. He put his hands on the brick wall, and Yuze ripped off the shorts the boy wore and pulled them down his legs, leaving only the red pleated skirt-portion, then pushed his saliva-soaked cock into his firm behind roughly, as he had seen Cecir do with the other.

The boy whimpered furtively as his virgin arse was violated viciously; Yuze caught the scent of some blood; his sphincter had been torn, but the boy had better get used to it.

Yuze looked around for Cecir.

He held the other boy’s arms high and was shooting jets of sperm in his face, talking, though Yuze could not hear from the distraction of his own fucktoy’s increasingly loud whimpers. A few more thrusts, and the boy spent; Yuze felt it stick to his thigh, exposed above the stockings.

“What a dirty little fuckhole you are, coming from being fucked alone!” Yuze teased him and slapped him on his back. A few more ball-slapping thrusts, and Yuze filled the boy’s bottom with cream, and pulled out. Yuze squeezed another few drops of sperm on the boy’s skirt, then backed up a bit. The boy was sobbing, tears coming out of his eyes.

“You’ve ruined everything...” he whinged, “ruined it all... they’ll all come through now... nothing to stop them... you’ve ruined the world.”

Yuze rolled his eyes at the boy, then grabbed hold of his hands as he tried to rub his sappy puppy eyes, and lifted him up. In such desperation the boy could not be trusted to be left alone. He could take up self-harming... The boy stood up on shaky legs. The other harlot was sucking Cecir’s spent prick, and Yuze tugged the other towards him.

“Here,” Yuze said and pushed Cecir aside. “Let’s have you suck your sad friend here.” He spoke to the bunched one, and the boy was quick to take his friend’s cock in his mouth and sucked it eagerly. Cecir frigged his cock while watching Yuze stick his back into the other boy’s hole (it reëngorged very rapidly, and he felt ready), and when he was ready, he went back to fucking the bunched boy.

“Ahhh, Pitty...” the boy with shorter-hair said. So that must be the bunched one’s name, Yuze thought, and he seemed to remember reading it on the website. The boy spent after a few more of Yuze’s thrusts. The bunched-hair boy, Pitty, swallowed. Perhaps the corruption had done something inside of his mind, too, wrecked some inhibition, opened him up to things that had previously been too wicked. Yuze pulled his cock out of the other’s arse.

“Get on the floor and suck your friend, don’t you want to return the favour?” he said. The boy got on all fours on the asphalt, and leaned his head in and sucked his friend’s tiny prick. His hole, meanwhile, was gaping and invitingly wet, so Yuze put his cock back in it. The boy seemed not to object, he just moaned and kept sucking; and moans were all his friend had to offer, too. Yuze and Cecir exchanged amused glances when they almost simultaneously ejaculated and filled both boys with another load.

Yuze couldn’t well let Cecir ruin his boy’s arse as he surely ruined Pitty’s—it would be too loose for him to enjoy well after that.

 

*

The boys were obedient on the trip home. They kept quiet, didn’t express any urge to flee. They followed Yuze and Cecir with despondent miens, filled with a sort of strange sadness and resignation. The fact that they failed their oh-so-holy mission had really done them in, mentally, at least, and they seemed to accept their capture as a worthy punishment. Ushered into the small flat’s living room, they were tied with some rope to a radiator. One knew not what weird fancies they might get in this situation... a spurt out onto the balcony, skipping the railing and... nine storeys down to the pavement. Yuze went into the kitchen while Cecir went to the bathroom; he made some ramen—it was more or less the only thing they had which had not spoiled in the last few days of erratic travels.

They ate mostly in silence, exchanging some amused smiles when they heard one or the other of their captives cry quietly.

Cecir washing the dishes, Yuze went out into the living room.

“What are you going to do with us?” the boy with shorter hair asked.

Yuze shrugged. “I don’t know. Keep you to play with for a while. What’s your name?”

The boy seemed to contemplate for a while. “A... Aryu. That’s my stage name, my... sorcerer name...”

“Kind of weird, but okay. We’ll see what Yuka thinks, too, about what to do with you two.”

“Yuka?”

“An old friend. You don’t know his name? You’ve worked to keep him out of this world for so long and you don’t even know his name?”

“Oh. The daemon...”

Yuze nodded. “We’ll see if he has anything special in mind. For the time being, you’re my buttslave. You could fuck me, too, but... not sure that thing of yours is satisfying any longer. Not on its own...” With that thought, he came to think of the boy on the plane, Hisame. “Cecir,” Yuze called, “did you get the number to that boy? On the plane?”

Cecir came out of the kitchen. “Yeah,” he confirmed, “I got his number. Want me to call him?”

“Yeah, let’s invite him. Let him have a bit of fun with these new toys as well. He can stay when Yuka comes.”

”You sure he will?”

“Why wouldn’t he? Now that he can?”

Cecir shrugged. “How’d he know where we live, where we are?”

“Sense it, somehow.”

“I guess... that could be possible.”

 Cecir picked up his phone from the table on which their television stood.

Yuze sat down on the sofa. “Come here,” he spoke to the slave-boys, “come here and suck me.” Their chain was well long enough that they could crawl to him; he pushed his skirt up a bit, and let them suck while he relaxed.

Aryu started sucking well on his side, but Pitty seemed reluctant; it just lacked the appropriate energy and gusto.

“What’s wrong?” Yuze asked him.

“It’s not very big...” Pitty said.

“So what? Well, suck my balls, then, instead!” The boy seemed to regard this as a fair trade off, and went to work promptly, moistening his sack and tickling it with sucking and licking.

“Hisame said he’s coming,” Cecir shared as he walked on back into the living room.

Yuze nodded at him. “This toy of yours insulted the size of my cock, by the way,” he said, “I think you need to do something to him.”

Cecir feigned a sigh. “Did he now?” He brandished his sword, and moved in for the stab into the guts; Pitty whimpered pitifully as the cock quickly explored his insides. His testes-sucking worsened dramatically, and when Cecir finally came in his bowels, he had ceased all attempts thereat, and merely gave a strange delusionally pleasured mien while clinging to the edge of the sofa.

Cecir pulled out and sat down on the sofa, putting an arm around Yuze. Pitty went to work sucking Cecir’s spent member thereafter, almost as if in thanks for fucking him.

Beyond their living room and flat, the night consumed what of the light was left, and the city lit up like a million candles.

Yuze went out on the balcony just past midnight. Hisame had texted Cecir just before that he’d be there soon. Things were still, not much could be seen that moved. The warning lights on the skyscrapers far off in Shinjuku blinked. Not many stars were visible, for the light of the city was too bright, but Yuze liked to watch. Just looking up at the sky and seeing those lights of stars so very far away, somehow it was comforting, the whole planet nothing but an insignificant ball of dirt. The scale of it, so ungraspably vast—he stood there for a while, and felt the cold nocturnal breeze. Some blinking lights moved—aeroplanes, coming in for landing; full of people, full of stories that would never be told.

The door opened and shut, and Cecir came out into the cold.

“You went out, huh?”

“It’s a nice, lonely night. Crisp stars. Fresh breeze. The familiar scents... makes me remember long-lost childhood days, carries with it a hint of those times that are no more, which the world has left behind, evolved beyond... I remember one night much like this, perhaps it was new year’s, some festival or other, and us children ran around and played in the street with sparklers... I didn’t even know who they were, they were the children of my parents’ casual acquaintances on our street I guess... but for a while it was as if we shared something, as if we had something in common, as if I was normal...”

Cecir moved closer, so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. A lonesome man scurried down the narrow street and rounded a corner. A car horn sounded between the buildings of the urban jungle, and then all was quiet again. People not asleep were the light-averse kind, the one that made little noise except when heedlessly intoxicated, the sort to sneak and keep to the shadows.

A sudden sound stirred the placid darkness, and a current of air gusted their faces more prominently than any other natural waft had previously. There was something moving in the night sky somewhere out there, beyond the reach of the lights; something clearly moved, a vague black silhouette against the few stars, then came again that gust, and something that made Yuze think of an old woman whipping a carpet, slow but heavy beats and crackling faintly like leather. Then it appeared for a second to have disappeared, before suddenly something vast blocked out the view from the balcony altogether, and before Yuze and Cecir knew how to react, they tumbled with surprise backward down on the balcony floor.

“Ah!” there came a whinge. “Shit, sorry about that! I’m not very good with landing...” It was in Yuka’s voice. It took a while for Yuze to regain his bearings in the darkness and make out that he was still on the balcony. He looked up, and could again see the stars, but next to him and Cecir on the brown carpet was Yuka, scrambling to get up on his legs. “So...” Yuka continued, “I didn’t interrupt anything?”

Just then came a ring from the door. Cecir, who had just got up, disappeared into the flat and towards the door.

“Expecting someone?” Yuka queried.

“Yeah, it was this slutty boy from the flight. We thought it’d be good with additional participants. He’s cute. You’d probably like him.” Yuze opened the door, and Yuka walked into the room. He was almost naked, wearing some manner of weird steel rings with tightly buckled straps between them, cutting squares out of his flesh. His cock was exposed, though not hard. Perhaps the cold draft, Yuze thought humorously. He saw on Yuka’s back that he still had a pair of wings as well, though they had shrunk from the width they must have had for him to fly with, and the width enough to push him and Cecir down on the balcony floor. They looked cute now, perfunctory but cute. Yuze went inside after him.

“Oh, what are these?” Yuka motioned his hand at the two boys tied to the radiator. “Are they—the sorcerers?”

Yuze nodded. “We thought you might want to play with them. And decide what we shall do with them. Or _to_ them. It’s only fair.”

“Cuter than I expected, too!” Yuka said. “Typical modern bandmen, such playboys, such vacuous little pretty-boys. In for a fuck and little else. Empty brains, brand-mentality, worshipful of trends, not an original observation or thought, a mere slate on which whatever was affixed last sticks... but cute, fuckable for sure... Remember when we were twenty-or-so and insufferable?”

“I wasn’t bad...” Yuze said.

“Regardless, I’ve had a mind to make these two my children from the moment I saw their photos. You’ve already corrupted them—do you mind if I finish the job?”

Hisame walked in then and examined the captives, having no words but his face showing excitement; he dressed in a lot of black PVC with glittery black-and-blue frills at the shoulders of a tiny vest, which exposed his taut belly down to the waistband of a pleated miniskirt, beneath which he was clad in a pair of flared leggings from above the knees to the tops of his lacklustre shoes. His nice thighs were on full display, and Yuze found himself staring at them when he remembered Yuka’s question. “You mean make them part daemon, like me and Cecir?” he answered, turning to him. “I think it would be best. That way they can live forever in shame—doesn’t that sound good?”

“Certainly! Ah, I’m getting hard just thinking of the struggles-with-the-self of these degraded sorcerers. What do you think?” Yuka addressed Aryu and Pitty.

Sighing, Aryu said, “The fight is lost, our holy magicks proven wholly ineffective. It makes me doubt we ever had powers at all. Did we just imagine that we were sorcerers, taking a stand in a battle for the souls of humanity?”

“Is this some roleplay?” Hisame commented. “I never tried that before, but—”

Yuka cut him off. “Most of that was in your head. But you did have powers until recently, and they were a real thorn in my side.” He paused, then went on: “There is no spiritual warfare, and the soul exists as a literary device at best. Immortality, like consciousness itself, is an accident—an aberration in the natural dis-order. You and your little friend are fortunate that I have taken a liking to you, because I can spread my eternal disease.” Blood had gone to Yuka’s cock as he spoke, and now he stroked it. “So who wants first taste?”

Pitty leaned forward with his tongue extended, and Yuka placed a hand on his head and brought himself in for a landing. A sneering chortle came from Aryu, but he watched with interest as his friend’s face was fucked. Yuze knew from his words he was utterly defeated, and waited only for his turn to start the new game. Now unable to hold back, Yuze tugged on Yuka’s tail as he plunged his cock toward Pitty’s throat, and slid his own erection in beneath it, pulling his skirt out of the way.

Moaning, Yuka said, “This’ll make it more fun—fuck me hard, Yuze-chan!”

And he penetrated, jerking off Yuka’s slippery tail which seemed to pulse hot like a cock itself, though it never got rigid. He felt hands on his hips then, not Cecir’s hands—Hisame had decided to have a go.

“I came up with something clever,” he murmured near Yuze’s ear and pressed something at his loose hole—it was his penis, and a rubber dildo, lined up for a double-penetration. Hisame was wearing a kind of strap-on to give his fuck that extra girth Yuze demanded nowadays. “Do you like it? Now I can do you proper, and more importantly, your boyfriend can do me.”

Pitty had already started swallowing, but Yuze knew the font could go for as long as Yuka willed it. Wouldn’t that be a pleasant surprise, for Pitty. They were just getting started. He knew Cecir had come to grant Hisame’s wish when he heard his work-shy sigh at the back, and felt his weight added to Hisame’s thrusts. Aryu watched intently, lonely; he couldn’t even reach Cecir’s arse to lick it, to take part. But he must have found solace in the certainty that he was next.

He grunted his surprise when black-and-white-striped horns sprouted from the top of Pitty’s head, curving towards the back. Yuze blew his load in Yuka shortly thereafter, leaning in, those cute miniature wings beating against his chest. He couldn’t retrieve his spent cock, because Hisame wasn’t done with his arse—but he seemed unable to get soft within the fleshy cushioning of Yuka’s magical anus.

So they fucked awhile, Pitty whining as he swallowed continuously, working hard not to drown from semen. He underwent additional changes to the horns as it went on, a benefit of a larger dosage, Yuze thought: now a glistening, white tail waved behind Pitty, the same striped pattern as his horns, and the back of his top bulged with what were probably wings. Yuze hoped the changes stopped there, or they might not have such a cute fuckslave any more; but as it stood, it only enhanced the aesthetic impression.

His features awestruck, Aryu stared. And suddenly, Hisame thrust hard and deep into Yuze’s arse, ejaculating. Yuze got out of the tangle then, still hard. He thought he’d help Cecir along, and got into position behind him. Hisame had his hands on the floor now, like an animal, his long legs lifting his arse high as Cecir’s enormous cock bored into it.

Pushing his erection into his well-endowed lover’s tight hole, Yuze said, “Yuka-chan, I think that boy’s had enough. Why don’t you start on the other? Aryu has a nice little butt on him.”

At that suggestion Yuka pulled out, and Pitty coughed and gasped for breath, semen running over his bottom lip. Yuka said, “There’s a lot more where that came from. I’m going to make everyone in this room as daemonic as possible, through my limitless spendings!”

And Yuze’s heart pounded in excitement at the promise.

Hisame gasped as his backside was brutalised. “I don’t know what… you’re talking about,” he managed to say. “But it sounds sexy…”

He had probably racked up a few diseases by now with that attitude, Yuze thought. This next one will do him some good. Aryu seemed compliant as Yuka pulled his legs out from under him, repositioning him to access his bum. “It’s a bit harder from this end,” he said, “on account of gravity. Oh, but that gives me an idea!” He picked Aryu’s knees up, bending him almost enough that he could suck his own cock if it were a little longer—he didn’t complain but for a couple inarticulate grunts, and now his arse was up to Yuka’s face as he knelt, and stuck out his tongue to prepare the way.

Yuze’s hips smacked against Cecir’s buttocks, and Hisame moaned at the front. Now Pitty had to content himself with watching; his micro-prick was probably quite erect, but one couldn’t really make it out between his thighs. His saliva-glossed lips looked ready to attack any cock that came near; Yuka’s was busy with his friend’s arse.

“Almost there...” Cecir said after a while, and picked up the pace of his fuck. Hisame cried like a woman. It wasn’t hard for Yuze’s modest equipment to keep up with Cecir’s moving, tightening arse. And by this time, change had already been wrought in Aryu: dark purple horns could be made out, curved inward at their tips in such a way that they would form a cute heart if closer together. There was more to come, so long as Yuka kept pumping him full of seed—Yuze kept his eyes on that as he reached climax.

Cecir still pumped away at Hisame, his endurance almost inhuman; perhaps, Yuze thought as he slipped out of his rear, his larger cock made him slower to come, and that was for the best. But he did finish shortly, and let Hisame slide off his dick, sprawling face-down on the floor, arsehole gaping, never again to be satisfied with a normal-sized cock (or at least not for a long while). A beautiful sight; Yuze took it in a moment, then his gaze shifted, and he realised how very tacky and unfit for a slave were the remainders of the outfits of the two erstwhile sorcerers.

In the bedroom might be some suitable equipment to spare.

 

*

Aryu and Pitty, the slave-boys, had been fitted in appropriate gear: thigh-high boots and a pair of gloves each, in addition to more appropriate collars around their necks. They had been fitted too with open-mouth gags with plugs in the openings; presently, seated in the corner along the wall, Aryu was frigging Pitty off; Yuze saw it as he kneeled down next to Cecir before Yuka’s throbbing member.

“Once you drink my enriched seed again—your transformation will be complete!” Yuka said. “Then you’ll get your wings and tails!”

“Oh, sexy!” Cecir responded. “Will the wings be functional?”

Yuka bit his tongue. “I don’t rightly know, I haven’t tried before myself—not with humans. They might. If not, they’ll look cute.”

Yuze was already licking the prick on his side, when Cecir began to do the same. Lavishing it in rich saliva, they soon had it wet, and each took his turn pulling at it, licking more or less simultaneously as they looked up at Yuka’s approving gaze.

Yuka put a comforting hand on either’s head as they went on pleasing him; and when he was satisfied with their work, he spent at will; gushing from the slit in his cock, though not of remarkable size, a prodigious cascade of sperm; Yuze and Cecir both drank and suckled like piglets, swallowing as much as possible, and when the torrent stopped, there was a big puddle on the floor, and the lower parts of their faces were smeared. Thick, full droplets of the yoghurt dripped from their cheeks.

Thereat the strange feeling of a sudden electrical shock came, making both Yuze and Cecir twitch slightly, and move back. Yuze felt something push up his skirt, and how his top tightened, the alien material stretching to accommodate what must be the wings. It was like a weird sexual tingling throughout the body, and from that alone he came, shooting semen right into the already large puddle.

“Let’s see what they look like,” Yuka said and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a knife. Yuze, still on all fours, was the first to be treated; Yuka deftly cut into the top around the bulges of the wings with careful and surgical precision; done with cutting round apertures in the latex top, he folded out Yuze’s red leathery wings in the open air of the living room; Yuze felt the air brush against them. Though they were new, things that had not been there before, they instantly felt familiar, though his control over their movement proved erratic. Spread out fully, they were, in shrunken state, somewhat about a metre across, though he found after some experimentation that he could fold them up neatly. He stood, and saw that Yuka had given Cecir’s dress a similar treatment, and his now shimmering black wings were having their first spread—Yuze’s cock picked the front of his skirt up like the tail had done the rear.

Yuze helped Cecir get up, still a bit dazed from the _injection_.

“You should be able to expand the wings greatly,” Yuka said, “to be able to fly. They should be rather wide—probably best if you stand in the middle of the room when you try to expand them. You first.” He looked at Yuze, so Yuze did as suggested, standing roughly in the centre of the room. Yuka stood behind him. “Concentrate on the wings,” he said, “and take a deep breath.”

Yuze did as instructed, and felt how the wings tickled, he thought of them as wide and large, and there came a slight stinging sensation.

“Good, yes, just like that!” Yuka said.

They felt light on his back still, though as he looked to the side he could see that they each extended for a good distance across the room. Concentrating, he found he could move them somewhat easily, though he was reluctant to stir the air in the room—things could well start blowing around.

“Oh!” came a sudden exclamation from Hisame—who Yuze had almost forgotten was present, after he scurried off some time earlier to head to the bathroom. His face dripped with water, as if in disbelief of the situation he found himself in he had tried to make himself wake up; he had slipped away quickly after Cecir hand spent in his bottom. Yuze stopped the beating of his wings.

“Those... wings?” Hisame said, seeming unsure what to say, what to ask.

Yuka butted in. “I told you. Daemonic spendings. You’re a cute little fuck, come here, and let me have you.” Yuka stroked the erection he sported, “it will do you good. And Yuze, try to see if you can get off the floor.”

Hisame seemed confused but was still drawn to the eroticism of the situation, so that he went along with Yuka’s suggestion; shifting eagerly to sit himself down on Yuka’s cock after the latter sat down on the sofa.

Yuze concentrated on moving his wings. Cecir was looking at him, though he didn’t try to do the same – there was not enough space. A few beats, and some loose papers and newspaper fragments blew off the coffee table, a handful of books fell off the shelf, but regardless, he felt himself lighten and—yes, he looked down: his high heels were off the wooden flooring. He beat his wings one more time and landed somewhat successfully elegantly. Concentrating anew, he actually managed to make them return to the small perfunctory size; he moved out of the centre of the room, while Cecir readied himself to try as well.

Yuze saw that, as Hisame rode Yuka, with sperm drivelling out of his loose fucked anus, the changes were taking hold of him, too; horns rose out of his hair, the light blue of thick glacier ice; Yuka held him firmly with hands around his hips, pushing him down on the lance. Semen drivelled on the sofa, down on the floor... Cecir’s wing-beats stirred ripples in the puddles of seed that lay on the floor here and there—it was mesmerising.

 


	9. Chapter 9

It appeared beautiful and royal in the early morning glow, where the leaves of the trees sparkled with the lingering moisture of night, standing out from a dramatic hill-side, far from any road and secluded, hard to see from any hiking trail, a vast castle-like structure; of dark stone it rose from the greenery, like a sinister dark fairy castle; were it not from the evident wear and bleakness of the stone exterior, one could have mistaken it for a Disney-production set-piece. Many storeys rose its steep towers with thin slit windows, topped off by weird, weathered-looking shingled discs; in the centre was an enclosed courtyard; there was a narrow, winding road that led up to it, little more than a dirt track; and it was there they landed. While the structure could not possibly have been there for particularly long, it’s façade looked and felt to the touch like the victim of hundreds of years of wear. Yuka skipped eagerly up the stairs, and opened the door with a big silver key, looking almost like a novelty item. The big wooden doors opened, and he stood there, inviting them up the rugged stone steps lined by a black wrought iron railing. The structure seemed, up close, more modern than its shape seen from a distance suggested, though it was clearly not new; at least, the exterior wasn’t.

Pushing the slave boys—who had flown there alongside them, and readily found themselves in their role by now—ahead of them, Yuze and Cecir, tailed by Hisame, ascended the stairs. They entered into a large foyer, where some seats were arranged, and a large red carpet covered the polished floor, on which heels clicked. Straight ahead, a large door stood ajar and revealed a long corridor of white-painted walls and wooden flooring and a ceiling of strange golden colour whose uncanny shimmer was pleasant to the eyes. The walls had many doors, and where those were not, were instead paintings such as they had seen in the rampart in the desert world; sexual depictions of beautiful men and boys—a taste of immortal, space-conquest refinement, truly; verdant plants, potted palms and bushy ferns that looked to belong to another epoch, added some spice to the whole.

After putting the slave boys in a somewhat barren room, where the only company were pet-food bowls and a large steel tub wherein rested that weird biological sex machine which Yuze and Cecir had previously been richly entertained by, with their chains (at this point redundant, but erotic) fastened around a hook on the wall, they were, all three, offered a tour of the premises. The interior was quite modern; fine, fresh bathrooms, showers, baths, toilets as needed; and bedrooms, one for each alone—already provided with pleasant beds and amenities, own bathrooms included. Yuze wondered how the plumbing and electricity were provided (lavish chandeliers and more modern lamps were fitted), but decided it was a fruitless contemplation. Yuka would perhaps tell them some day.

There were big dining halls and shared spaces, living rooms, and other facilities; modern electronics were present, too, and even musical equipment. They could bring their own things, of course, it was no issue; Cecir mentioned his car, which was still left at the car park of Wakkanai Airport; Yuka said sure, it could be brought back there, the road was accessible, though there was a gate to discourage wayward travellers as might leave traces were they to _disappear_.

There was a large indoor pool lined with veined marble, a big kitchen whose floor was polished stone full of fossils; they were shewn the courtyard where was planted a garden of eerie vegetation and a small clearing wherein were arranged seats and a barbecue of brick. All in all it was a posh housing sans equal, despite the dreary and weathered exterior.

They had gone a full lap of the building, returning to the foyer and the door to the slave room. Yuka stopped there, sat down on one of the couches, put one leg over the other rather masterly. “Any further questions?” he asked.

“Not really,” Yuze said, “but—I’d like to see that biological fuck-machine in there,” he pointed at the slave-room door, “playing with the boys some!”

“What of my clothes?” Hisame interjected. “I want some of that proper latex stuff!”

“Hmm, I suppose one of the assistants can take you to one of the clothing rooms. Pick something out.” As if on cue, the green-haired spiral-horned fellow, which Yuze recalled having seen in the desert fortress, emerged from a door and bowed towards Hisame.

“Remember to pick proper heels this time,” Yuze told him.

“Fine,” Hisame replied and walked off with the green-haired avatar of Yuka.

“Meanwhile,” said real Yuka (how would one know? It seemed to be the primary one, anyway), “we’ll go in and watch.”

Yuze nodded eagerly; Yuka got off the sofa and led the way into the room. He walked up to the beast lying lazy in the tub, pink and reddish mess of tendrils wrapped around the main body. It was evidently resting; Yuka simply spat on it when close, and it instantly animated with a heedless flailing of the many arms; Yuka backed away.

Pitty and Aryu were both tied rather close to it, and it had no trouble reaching them. And though they squirmed and whimpered and their gazes betrayed worry of the thing which writhed near and soon slapped its pink appendages against their bottoms, they seemed to accept it.

It was amusing to watch, the arms slithering across their bodies, finding the hole—slipping inside, already slick; into Pitty’s arse disappeared two, swivelling around as they dug; another into his drooling slut-lipped mouth; it lifted him off the ground and piercing him as if proud to display it’s abilities, doing then the same to Aryu, displaying them as it skewered them like meat on a barbecue, filling their orifices, wrapping itself around their naked bodies, squeezing and dripping a transparent mucus whose sweetish smell was somehow arousing.

The door opened behind them, and Hisame strutted in. Yuze threw a gaze at him, newly outfitted as he was; sporting thigh-high chunky-heel platform boots, suspenders tied to a latex belt, above this a short coat of the same material, all black with long, flared-end sleeves, closed with buckles and straps at the front. Clearly he had been thinking of _accessibility_ when he chose a costume. His cock dangled between his legs, half-inflated.

“Neat!” Hisame exclaimed as he beheld the thing that ravaged the two slave-boys further into the room, bulging from the tub wherein it had rested. “Can I try it?”

“Sure, go right ahead, it has enough projections to satisfy more,” Yuka told him, and in a flash he scurried forwards to join. He turned towards Yuka, Yuze and Cecir and brandished his arse at the thing, and as a slimy tendril disappeared up his backside his eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, marked by preternatural pleasure; soon he too was wrapped and sucking while having his rear ravaged by ceaselessly spinning and thrusting arms; all three of them wrapped and fucked in a blind sexual rage. Thick mucus dripped transparent and gelatine-like to the floor below the thing.

“I have some things to prepare,” Yuka said suddenly as they watched, “Meet me in the hall in an hour or so. Okay?” He smiled at them and turned to the door as both Yuze and Cecir responded affirmatively.

“Shall we go have some private fun? There aren’t enough arms for us,” Cecir said as the door closed.

Yuze nodded at him.

They sat down on one of the sofas arranged in the hall outside.

Cecir leaned towards Yuze and licked his ear. “So, how are you feeling, Yuze-chan?”

“Good, but...” he paused with thought before he continued, “it has been pretty stressful lately, so much going on—hopefully it’ll settle down. Some time for reflection... for some closer... sex...”

“Oh?” Cecir pulled his skirt up to reveal that prodigious erection of his. It stood like a rocket aimed at the stars awaiting the launch, transparent pre-come slipping out of the slit. Yuze leaned down over Cecir’s lap and licked at the inviting tip. A laugh, and Cecir’s hand came down behind Yuze’s head and forced his mouth over the cock. Yuze coughed, but tried to accommodate.

“Yes...” Cecir winced and pushed harder, “give me some of that throat-cunt!”

Yuze could only gag and make noises with the cock filling his mouth so fully, but he tried—and he felt the warm cockhead rub against the back of his mouth, pushing on. But it was just too large to take very far, no matter how he tried—he wasn’t used to it, being this large, after all... but he did his best, and felt his own cock grow stiff under the revealing skirt, felt Cecir’s hand reach for it, grab it, and slowly tug on it as he kept on sucking until Cecir bored of wanking Yuze off and grabbed his neck and pulled the cock out of his copiously drooling mouth.

“Get up, and ride my cock now,” Cecir said.

Yuze stood up, then straddled Cecir’s thighs; Cecir’s member he pushed ahead, rubbing his own, small in comparison, against it.

“Where does my cock belong? Say it...” Cecir’s stuck his tongue out and licked his black lipstick-coated lips.

“In my arse-cunt!” Yuze exclaimed, lifted himself up a bit, aimed Cecir’s wet cock, and leaned his bottom down on it. Wet and adjusted as his hole was already, it slipped in with remarkable ease, and a few thrusts later it was in to the hilt; Cecir hugged Yuze to his chest and licked his face. Yuze caught his tongue with a gentle bite and arrested it, their lips moving close and transforming into a deep, salivating kiss. “Fuck me hard, the way I like it, ah,” Yuze whined as their lips parted, and Cecir’s hands on his hips helped the force of the piston shoving in and out, wet with saliva and arse-juice. The kiss resumed, and Yuze didn’t see Yuka return before he felt a cock push up against his tail-bone. This time it quite burned as the two pricks in unison expanded his hole. “Fuck, my cunt will be so big after this!” Yuze feigned silliness, and Cecir laughed in his face. He kissed him again. “Ruin me! Make me a fuck-doll! Ah!”

Yuka gave a laugh too, and they kept on fucking in well-coördinated thrusts; and soon after Yuze spent on Cecir’s latex-covered belly, Cecir gave a moan and spent himself; and on cue, able to control his orgasms as he was, Yuka did too; and as he pulled out Yuze felt the warm spend drivel out. He heard it spill onto the floor.

Standing up on unsteady legs, Yuze felt Cecir’s dick slip out too. Semen drivelled down his legs, onto the stockings. He reached down, gathered some semen up with a finger, and put it to his mouth, licking it off. “Mmm, delicious semen...” he said with a smile. Cecir’s face met his, and they passed the spend between their mouths.

“Would you like to gape a little wider?” Yuka said. “My pet still has some juice in it, and there’s nothing your arse can’t recover from now—I promise!”

It took a moment for Yuze to piece together his meaning; and when he understood, his anus drew tight in anticipation. Not too tight, of course.

The saccharine scent of the beast’s secretions flavoured the air. Aryu and Pitty didn’t seem to notice the trio as they entered, though the slave-boys faced the doorway, tendrils thrusting and twisting in their throats and tummies. Hisame cried ecstatically, two of the things writhing inside him; he, on hands and knees, drivelling from both his mouth and his flaccid little cock.

“It seems busy,” Yuze commented, noting that only one phallus lay unused.

“I admit,” said Yuka, “the thing has about reached capacity. I never expected it to have to accommodate more than three or four tight little sluts at once—myself and my favourite children of the moment. But our family has expanded, hasn’t it? Then so, too, should our slimy friend here.” He walked toward it, stepping over the members trailing behind Hisame, and gave its blob-like body a five-fingered caress. It glowed then, and blew up like a balloon, nearly reaching the ceiling before flattening slightly, retaining the shape of a beanbag chair. When it had settled, it sported several new appendages—Yuze couldn’t readily count them. And Yuka spoke further, his legs quaking slightly where he had slid back during the creature’s expansion: “I fed it—ah… I fed it a lot of my power. At this point, it could take advantage of me even if I tried to fight it. But why would a daemon like me resist?”

It had already steadied Yuka with a tendril around his waist, another giving his thigh a slimy hug. Taking Cecir’s hand, Yuze stepped forward, eager to give himself over completely to the writhing mass. A couple of the tendrils already homed in on his warmth; he grabbed one, and caught the other in his mouth, releasing Cecir with the knowledge that he needn’t take one more step, for others came to him.

He guided the thing in his hand between his legs, and it wasted no time in finding his supple entryway and penetrating him, snaking far up into his bowels, curling, twisting… the one in his mouth filled his throat, allowing him to breath only in short fits. He grasped for other tendrils as they neared him, and when he had two up his arse his half-hard cock ejaculated, but he wasn’t done yet—he had been promised more. And as if in response to his unspoken, half-thought desires, a third appendage pressed at his perineum, seeking ingress. It hurt, stretching him beyond his limits yet unable to be arrested in its progress; he was sure he bled. He wasted a chance to breathe on a moan, which felt just as good as he grew a little dizzy.

Recognising his commitment to a prolonged ravishment, Yuze saw nothing better to do than watch the same unfold upon his lovers. He was somewhat upset to see that two of the things wriggled inside Cecir’s rear; no longer would he be tight enough for Yuze to fuck well, at least not for a while. Aryu managed not to exceed one—at least he was holding out for Yuze. The others’ boy-cunts he didn’t care so much about the integrity of; Pitty’s still swallowed two daemonic phalluses, a third using his throat and a fourth constricting his neck; he clawed at it as his white, striped tail lashed about wildly. On the other hand, Hisame and Yuka were trying to outdo him, each stretched wide by three tendrils, suspended in the air by others around their waists and limbs, the sweet, clear slime running over their bodies and pooling on the floor.

Yuze let the strength leave his legs, hoping it would prompt the beast to lift him, too. It worked as planned, for as he began to topple forward a tendril came to hold him up, coiling around his waist, his abdominal muscles crushed between it and the three pushing and pulling inside him. He suddenly lost control of his bladder, but that deterred nothing; it was a special kind of orgasm he’d had, and he felt grateful to have piss trickling beneath him given the circumstances. It carried him farther from the floor as it ravaged his insides, closer to the red, bloated body, which seemed to radiate a kind of electricity—he could feel it in his extremities; it made his cock perk up unnaturally quick.

The others had also been drawn closer; he could tell from their lascivious expressions that they felt it, too; every millimetre of skin had become erogenous. Feeling the heavy, slimy caresses deep inside him, deeper than he was ever able to feel anything before, Yuze climaxed once more, but as far as he could tell, nothing escaped his body but tears of absolute bliss—unless those were from the gagging. It made no difference. And for what seemed longer than an hour, things resumed thus, everyone getting their arses and throats plunged, pregnant with turning tendrils and suspended in the air by the slimy grips of more of the same. The beast slowed down, grew weak, unable to hold them up after a while and barely able to thrust inside.

Yuze found himself on the floor on his back, four appendages still making perfunctory use of him. Cecir knelt by his side, his tummy barely bulging with such tired efforts, but his mouth free; he looked tired, too, but he leaned over Yuze and took his dick in his mouth, giving it a brief suck before pulling back and sighing. “I’m worn out and hungry,” he said. “But I think I can last longer than this thing. It seems to expend energy quickly, dealing with so many people in so many ways at once...” He returned to suckling Yuze’s half-erect prick, moaning in a way that emphasised his hunger. He had Yuze’s spend to eat after only a couple minutes, which was surprisingly quick.

Then the tendrils, having slowed near to a halt in their fucking, began to slip out of the holes they had for so long occupied, and Yuze saw Yuka carefully stepping over ones that lay already on the floor. “We sucked it dry with our greedy bodies,” Yuka announced. “And the timing couldn’t be better: the food should be about ready.”

 

*

 The sleeping city, a litter of myriad stars seen from high above, a galaxy of patterns, some familiar, some alien—things looked different from up here, though the outlines of the city were clear, and Yuze knew where he was going; the dark outline of the Arakawa River, with the orange glow of the motorway that ran on an embankment that separated the wide river from the smaller Naka River. The night air was fresh and cool and tickled his wings as he flew; he saw the glow of the commercial and office towers around the station towards which he navigated. The broadcast masts’ warning lights blinked red in the dark. Some distance from there, he saw Kazuki’s house.

The windows looked dark as he descended slowly in a circling motion; he slowed down and managed to affect a quiet and sneaky landing in the garden inside the concrete walls. Kneeling down, he touched the grass, and found it was slightly wet, as if it had rained recently. He snuck up against the wall of the building, and tried to remember as good as he might, where was Kazuki’s room and which window would lead him thither; but as it was dark, it was difficult, and he wished not to tumble into Kazuki’s mother’s bedroom in this weird manner. One window was slightly opened, and listening at the threshold, he heard from within faint snoring, and familiarity with it left him no doubt that it was Kazuki. He opened the window slowly to allow himself to venture inside, and this done he took light steps over the tatami floor (if it had been wood, it might have been noisier with the heels he wore) up to the bed. Some light filtered in through the open window, cast by a street light half-obscured by the canopy of a diminutive tree that grew up against the perimeter wall, and in it Yuze could see Kazuki, evidently sleeping in the nude, with his duvet dishevelled and rolled up against the wall. His cock was stiff at his crotch, aroused perhaps by some dream’s alluring excitement; Yuze saw too his pale, smooth and hairless thighs that longed for caresses and fondles. Following the outline of his body, up over his exposed and stiff nipples, Kazuki’s mouth was open. Yuze knelt down on the side of the bed, leaning close to the exposed erection, and carefully stretched his tongue out to touch it.

It was warm. Kazuki moved faintly in his sleep as Yuze’s lips closed in around his cock. He did not, however, wake up; even as Yuze began to slurp and lick and suck he seemed only to have his dream enhanced, for in his sleep he began to whine.

Yuze pressing his teeth teasingly against the glans, Kazuki stirred and then opened his eyes. The light that filtered in through the window shewed little, but surely enough for Kazuki to see, once in control of his faculties, that it was Yuze; his confused gaze revealed familiarity and recognition promptly, though likewise betrayed a dreamy disbelief, no doubt because of the horns on his head. Perhaps Kazuki assumed then that it was a dream, and Yuze returned to sucking him off. Moaning softly, Kazuki twitched as he orgasmed, and filled Yuze’s mouth with bitter love-nectar. Yuze swallowed without hesitation. Kazuki seemed to still regard it as a dream, as he looked at Yuze without saying a word.

Yuze put a gloved hand on Kazuki’s soft thighs, then got up and crawled into the bed and off the floor. “Your skin’s still so soft and pale,” he whispered, “such nice thighs...” He pushed Kazuki onto his side (he had lain on his back), and thereafter lifted his skirt up and pushed his erection in between Kazuki’s thighs with a few soft thrusts. His tail, slick and red with a spade-shaped end, he wetted with spittle and let it twist its way into Kazuki’s arsehole.

Kazuki’s eyes were closed and filled with pleasure, though it took a while of thigh-fucking before he realised he didn’t know what it was which had probed his bottom so skilfully with muscular prehensile squirming.

“What...” he suddenly said. Some momentary clarity, mists having lifted for a glimpse of the dying sun six billion years into the future, where long ago the earth had been cleared of all hints of human habitation, and Kazuki was now conscious of the fact that perhaps this was not a dream. Kazuki reached down with a hand and grasped at the slippery length that disappeared up his arsehole like a thick red earthworm, but could not get a grip of it. “What is this?”

“My tail, in your butt,” Yuze said matter-of-factly, “what else?”

“This is a dream, right?”

Yuze shrugged. Kazuki reached for the lamp next to the bed, but Yuze pulled his dick out from between the thick luscious thighs, shifted some, and pushed it into Kazuki’s arse above the tail. Kazuki gave a muffled cry which turned to moans with each thrust as Yuze began to fuck, and his hand never reached the table-lamp.

Kazuki kept up moans which were familiar to Yuze and recalled lost childhood moments of innocent debauchery under vivid glowing sunsets, or cooped up indoors on cold, rainy days of fun on the sofa. The tail twisted, and Yuze pulled his cock out.

“Turn around,” he said to Kazuki softly. Still dazed with the conviction it was a dream, Kazuki submissively did so and turned around, laying down flat with his bottom up, arms splayed and head on its side against the white pillow. Yuze pushed his cock back in alongside the tail, which he had kept within the warm rectal embrace. 

A few thrusts, and with a moan from Yuze, the sperm gushed out like a vast dam bursting and flooding a sedate river valley, and kept on coming. From Kazuki’s lungs escaped a quivering whimper, and still he seemed half-convinced it was a dream, ravished by the pleasure which the daemon seed afforded, eyes closed—

When Yuze’s prick stopped drivelling, he pulled it out, leaving a snail-trail of sperm down the back of one of Kazuki’s legs.

“It’s not a dream,” he said then, “or if it is a dream, then it is the most wonderful dream there ever was.” He paused, squeezed out some lingering semen from his slackening cock like a tube of sandwich-caviar. He looked to the desk on the other side of the room, found a pen and paper, and scribbled down an address. “I leave you with this location, where you can find me, should you be so inclined. It is quite hard to reach... but something tells me you won’t find that challenging.” Yuze laughed pleasantly, threw a final gaze back at the confused Kazuki just as he was seized by the first spasms of the conversion. Some noise escaped his mouth, but it was not words. Yuze stepped on out into the night, concentrated and expanded and spread his wings, and flew off without looking back again. Kazuki would make his choice. Oh, he felt sure he would come. He would be welcomed into the fold... No, this, this was not a dream, this was stark reality; stark as the night, fresh and quiet, full of expectancy for the day to come, full of a sort of eerie magical potency.


End file.
